New Romantics
by msmerlin13
Summary: Truth be told, it was probably the accent. God, she loved that accent. Clearly, her ongoing yearlong booty call sessions with yet another British man that she most definitely shouldn't be sleeping with showed how weak she was for that fucking accent. Or the one in which Hermione ends up accidentally sleeping with her poly-fuck buddies royal boyfriend.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury and Warner Bros. No copyright infringement is intended.

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**Okay. On a scale of socially acceptable to wholly inappropriate—how wrong is it for me to be turned on right now?**

_Uh…xx_

…_should I be concerned? xx_

Hermione lifted her eyes from her iPhone screen, thumbs hovering over the digital keyboard as she glanced across the busy salon to the blond that sat two chairs away from the nine year old she was oh-so-graciously watching for her best friend and his wife.

Today was supposed to be a gift to the happy couple. She was watching Teddy so they could see the OBGYN without having to worry about keeping their rambunctious godson occupied. On the agenda was a haircut, some frozen-yogurt, and a mall trip where she would likely spend too much money on the kid and eat far too many pretzel bites (because cheese). It was supposed to be fun.

She was most definitely not supposed to pine after some random stranger with a too posh accent on their very first stop.

**Teddy's 9. He can watch himself for like 15 while I convince a complete stranger to fuck me in the bathroom.**

_I say go for it—a little independence won't be bad for him. xx_

_Harry said no. xx _

**God, he's such a bummer. Why did you marry him?**

_Huge cock. xx_

**GAH!**

_I'm serious… massive. xx_

**::vomit emoji::**

Jamming her thumb into the side button, she quickly flipped her phone face down on her lap, trying her best to rid herself of the mental image now ingrained in her mind. Harry had been her best friend for nearly five years, and even finding each other well into adulthood, she thought of him more as a brother than anything else. Which meant absolutely no talk of sex, or anatomy.

"—I'm obviously biased, but yes. He's a great kid. Very smart."

Her eyes drifted back across the room to the reason that whole exchange began, and she sucked her bottom lip into her mouth curiously, trying to hear whatever tidbits of conversation she could over the busy room.

He was British, that much was fairly obvious, but his accent differed from the ex-pats she'd met before. It was higher—like the way American actors spoke when they put on some noble accent to play royals from long ago. When she first heard it cut through the busy room, she'd thought he was faking it for attention, but the longer he kept talking, the more believable it sounded.

"He's four. Very into Thomas the Tank Engine and garbage trucks—though I think the latter must be an American thing. Never really fancied playing with rubbish as a kid, myself."

She couldn't get a real good look at him, just passing glances in the mirror as the stylist moved around, but there was something about him, some sort of magnetism that drew her in.

Truth be told, it was probably the accent.

God, she loved that accent.

Clearly, her ongoing yearlong booty call sessions with yet another British man that she most definitely shouldn't be sleeping with showed how weak she was for that fucking accent.

"Minnie! What do you think?!" A bright flash of aquamarine burst into her line of sight and Hermione jumped, startled from her daydream. Before her stood the nine-year old—the whole reason she braved a fucking Supercuts on a Saturday afternoon. "Pretty slick, right?" Running a hand along the shaved side of his hair, Teddy's fingertips grazed the outside edge of a freshly cut Mohawk, jade green eyes dancing with excitement.

"Oh… they're going to kill me." Hermione laughed, eyebrows nearly hitting her hairline as she took in not only the brazen cut, but the bright splash of color. Reaching out, she touched her fingers to the waxed tip, rolling the strands of his once honey-brown hair carefully. "When I said you could do whatever—"

"It's wash out, ma'am," the stylist piped up from where she stood behind Teddy.

Hermione instantly grimaced, wrinkling her nose. Ma'am? She'd _just _turned thirty a month ago. She was hardly old enough to be called ma'am.

"Ha! Ma'am," Teddy echoed, as if reading her damn mind like the child prodigy he was. "You're old."

"Oh, fuck off, brat." Hermione could feel the oxygen being sucked from the room by the soccer moms around her, gasping at her colorful dismissal. She couldn't care less about what they thought. She wasn't Teddy's mother—technically, she wasn't his _anything_. Just the cool friend of his adoptive parents. Pushing up from the chair, she pulled the now blue-haired boy to her side in a quick hug, playfully nudging him with her hip.

Teddy looped his thin arms around her middle. His hands didn't quite meet around her lower back, reminding her that she desperately needed to lose that extra fifteen pounds she'd managed to pack on over summer (because cheese… and beer… and hotdogs… and basically all food). "We still goin' to get froyo?"

"I guess." Hermione ran her hand across his freshly shaven head, chipped nails scratching lightly against the stubbled hair. For as much as Harry and Ginny might disapprove of their godson's new hairstyle, they would have to admit, it suited him.

Carefree. Bold. _Happy_.

Teddy had already had such a hard life by the young age of nine, and if having a blue mohawk made the boy happy, she would willingly take the brunt of their temporary annoyance.

Slipping her hand into the front pocket of her joggers, she withdrew a folded up twenty dollar bill and held it out for him. "Go get us started next door?"

"Strawberry?"

"With gummy bears and almonds."

"Thanks Minnie!" He plucked the twenty from her fingers and darted out of the door, making a beeline across the courtyard for the Pinkberry that sat adjacent to the salon.

Hermione laughed, watching as he nearly ran head first into a passing couple on his way. She lingered, making sure he made it into the shop safely before pulling her eyes away. The last thing she needed was Teddy being kidnapped or injured on her watch. Though, to be fair, she was almost certain Harry had accidentally left him at the grocery store on more than one occasion.

"Strawberry with gummies _and_ almonds? What kind of sociopath are you?"

Her stomach tightened and a wave of warmth bloomed across her cheeks as she turned towards the voice—the same voice she'd been trying to listen to all afternoon. Before her stood the tall and impossibly handsome blond because of-fucking-course it wasn't enough for him just to have a dreamy accent, he had to be unfairly attractive, too. He had a sharp jaw and a well angled nose like some sort of oil painting from long ago that hung in a stuffy gallery. He was easily a foot taller than her, if not more, and judging by the way his button down clung to his frame like it was fucking made for him, he was fit—or whatever that absurd word was Ginny used.

"I like crunchy things." The words left her mouth before she could come up with literally any other retort that made her seem charming, or cute, or, well, definitely not the type of women who admitted to liking _crunchy_ things.

"If that's the case, almonds I get, but, and correct me if I'm wrong, gummies aren't crunchy."

"Well, when they're in the froyo, they get hard because they kind of freeze once it's all mixed together, and when you add the almonds, it's like a sweet and salty snack." Hermione shuffled her weight from one foot to the other, aged Chuck Taylors squeaking on the linoleum floor.

"So you mix up this monstrosity to freeze the gummy?" The blond cocked a brow, gray eyes peering down at her with an intensity that should've been illegal. Despite the false fire in his words, she couldn't help but notice the way his lips lifted in just the hint of a smile. He lingered closer than strictly necessary, just past the point of friendly stranger and inching into the territory of flirtatious.

"No. I mix up this _deliciousness_ because it's the only proper way to eat frozen yogurt."

"Ah, well, I'd have to argue there. Clearly your flavor palate is a bit off."

"Oh? And what would you suggest then? Wait, let me guess…" Hermione cocked her head to the side, crossing her arms over her bust as she made a show of looking him up and down. He wore nice jeans she knew to be Hudson by the small flag embellishment on the front pocket, and a pair of Lacoste sneakers. While they were not her brand of choice, she knew it was fairly popular with the Brits. "Chocolate on chocolate?"

"Nope."

"Vanilla with peanut butter sauce?"

"Wow,. You're not good at this, are you?" He laughed, flashing that charming smile her way again.

Shaking her head, Hermione tucked some of her stray curls behind her ear. "Guess not." She wasn't really _trying _to be right. If anything, she was just dragging out the conversation so she could enjoy the dulcet sound of his voice for just a bit longer. "I… I should probably pay."

"Oh, right, so you can go enjoy froyo with your son." The blond stepped aside from where he'd moved by the register, sweeping a hand in front of her to let her pass.

"Son?" Hermione furrowed her brows as she moved in front of the stylist and held out her debit card. "Oh! You mean Teddy? He's not my kid. He's my friends'… well, son I suppose." Harry and Ginny's adoption paperwork had only just been finalized but they'd had the boy since infancy. Technically 'son' was the appropriate term—though Harry made it known he was never going to replace Teddy's late father.

"You had to think about it?"

"It's complicated." Accepting her card back, she quickly tucked it into her wallet before signing the receipt. She made sure to leave a nice tip for the stylist for not only managing to cut Teddy's hair, but also dealing with the horrendous show of her flirting with the too-hot blond. The man was very _clearly_ out of her league, but apparently that was her type now: tall, hot, _British._

On any scale, this man was obviously a ten. Hermione, on the other hand, was a seven on a good day—which was not today. Day old make-up still crusted her lashes and her hair was more frizz than curl. Although she couldn't be certain, she was fairly positive the joggers she'd selected in her haste to make it to Harry's earlier were dirty.

"Maybe you can explain it to me sometime over frozen yogurt—my treat as long as I get to order."

Her pen froze on the signature line, stopping halfway through the end of her surname and she shot a surprised glance up at the stylist, as if double checking to make sure she'd heard the blond right. Had he just… No, _definitely _not.

"Ha—_riiight._" Hermione finished her name with a flourish and she slid the receipt across the counter before dropping the pen back in the wire-mesh basket.

Men like that blond didn't go on dates with women like her. Hell, even with Theo it was just a late-night, come over and fuck each other stupid understanding. No public meet-ups. Ever. Partially because she didn't want to admit that she was fucking her semi-friend's baby-daddy. Partially because it was less complicated—though, truthfully, she wondered if Theo found the arrangement advantageous. He got his nut without having to admit he was slumming it with a seven.

Turning from the counter, she flashed a small smile toward the blond, tucking her wallet into her beaded handbag. "Well, have a nice day." Side stepping around the man, she moved through the busy seating area, careful to avoid the gaggle of teenagers that'd entered shortly after Teddy's departure.

She made it just inside the Pinkberry, the gleaming white and green decor assaulting her senses as her eyes adjusted to the bright fluorescent lighting. Why on earth their marketing department insisted on 60 watt lighting with shiny white tile was beyond her, but it definitely made her want to spend as little time as possible inside the hell hole.

"Minnie! Over here." Teddy was across the room, arm waving in the air wildly from a table he'd snagged in the far corner, and she couldn't help but laugh at his already chocolate smeared lips.

Edging around a table with a family of four, Hermione claimed the seat opposite Teddy, reaching for the bowl of frozen yogurt awaiting her. Picking up her spoon, she poked through the pink yogurt curiously. "Man, Tedward, you got the ratio right. Good job."

"Of course I did. I'm like…_ the best_ at making froyo," Teddy scoffed around his plastic spoon, his eyes rolling as he leaned forward to scoop up another large bite. "Uncle Harry tells me so all the time."

"And we both know he _never_ lies."

"Exactly. So where are we going next?"

"Well… we've got a couple choices." Hermione swirled her spoon through the pink concoction, making sure to thoroughly mix in the gummy bears and almonds. "We could go to my apartment, order pizza, and watch some tv."

"Boring, pass," Teddy replied, wrinkling his nose.

"Okay. Option two: I need to run to Target. So, shopping, popcorn, and Icees—the works."

"Ugh. Seriously, Minnie?" Teddy set his spoon down in his bowl, leveling his gaze on her. "What do I look like? Your errand boy?"

A laugh bubbled up from Hermione's throat, her free hand lifting to press against her lips. Though Teddy was not Harry and Ginny's biological son, she couldn't help but see glimpses of her best friends in him: the way he carried himself, the stern downturn of his lips, and the critical stare. "Okay, okay, fine. No Target. What about the Great Mall?"

"Can I get boba?"

"I suppose. I mean you _are_ eating froyo right now."

"Yeah, but this is lunch. Boba will be our treat."

It was no wonder she'd gained weight this last year. Between her little dates with Teddy, and marathon eating with her pregnant friend, it was honestly a wonder she'd only managed to pick up fifteen pounds. "Alright, bottomless pit. Boba for you, coffee for me."

"Excuse me, I think you forgot something in the salon."

The familiar baritone cut through the low murmur of conversation clouding the room, and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Shifting in her chair, Hermione looked over her shoulder to find the too handsome blond standing just behind her. "Oh?"

"Yeah." Lifting his hand from his pocket, he held a folded receipt between his fingers. He extended his hand towards her, his brows lifting slightly in a look akin to hope.

The receipt.

He came over to give her… the receipt? Maybe it was a British thing. Maybe he was just being nice. Maybe he—

She took the paper, unfolding it to reveal a name and number scrawled across the inky print of what looked to be his own bill. "Draco?" Hermione cocked her brow as she lifted her eyes. "Is that a fake name?"

"Clearly—I only give my _real_ name on the third date." He slipped his hands into his pockets, his face blank, void of any emotion that might give away the truth. Hermione swept her tongue across her lips, eyes flickering between the receipt and the blond, as if double checking this was really happening and not some daydream.

"Oh… Well, thanks?"

Draco nodded, rocking between the heels and balls of his feet as he cocked his head expectantly at her. "Are you… going to tell me your name?" he finally questioned after several moments of awkward silence punctuated by Teddy noisily slurping the last of his frozen yogurt from his bowl.

"Her name's Hermione, but I call her Minnie." Teddy set down his bowl, a ring of chocolate running around the corners of his mouth and dotting his nose.

Grabbing a napkin from the silver canister, she thrust it across the table towards the boy. "Hush, Teddy."

"Like the mouse?" Draco ignored her, his attention now on the blue-haired boy as he dragged the paper napkin around his lips to collect the chocolate smears.

"Exactly!"

"Clever." Draco hummed, his lips pursing to the corner of his mouth as he gave a single nod in approval. "Thank you for your assistance, Teddy. I'll let you two get back to your yogurt. It was nice meeting you, Hermione. I'll hear from you soon, yeah?"

Her thumb rubbed small, nervous circles across the corner of the paper as she watched him begin to back away from the table, gray eyes still locked on her.

She should say something—anything. She should ask him what his game was. Why would someone like _him_ be interested in a woman whose socks didn't even match?

But all she could do was nod. Her tongue felt thick and heavy as she watched him slip through the door, the chime from the electronic notification ringing in her ears when she looked down at the receipt again, then up to Teddy, who seemed none the wiser to just how utterly perplexed she felt.

"So… you going to finish that?" Teddy gestured to her hardly touched bowl, his tongue sweeping across his lips hungrily.

"I—you know what? No. Go ahead." Pushing it towards him with a small laugh, Hermione settled back into her seat. Shifting to retrieve her phone from her pocket, she unlocked the screen with a quick swipe of her thumb.

A series of messages from Ginny awaited her, the little red icon glaring at her angrily from her queue.

_I might have to find a new OB. xx _

_Harry was playing with the stirrups when the doctor walked in. xx_

_She was not amused. xx_

_In other news: baby looks great. Measuring on time. xx_

The final message was followed by a selfie of the pair. Ginny was still in the hideous mint green gown from the hospital with a wide smile plastered on her face. Harry was beside her looking as handsome as ever in a burgundy and navy striped shirt, pointing to the small monitor next them. On the tiny grainy screen sat the profile image of their unborn child curled up on his back.

Her smile widened, her heart filling at the image of her friends and their growing little family. Pressing on the image, she saved it to her phone before turning the screen towards Teddy. "Look, your brother's getting big."

Teddy took the phone, eyes narrowing as he examined the screen before he looked up to her, a toothy smile stretched across his lips. "Can we get him something all the mall? Something for the nursery? Maybe one of those little jumpers to match Uncle Harry?"

"Sounds like a plan." He could have asked for anything, a new video game or a far too expensive sweatshirt from that one store he liked so much, but instead, he wanted to take home a gift for his unborn sibling. How was she ever going to be able to tell him no? "Eat the rest so we can get out of here."

"Okay!" He snatched up the bowl, already lifting a spoonful of gummy bears towards his mouth. "You're going to text him, right?"

"I'm sorry—what?"

"That Draco dude… you going to text him?"

Hermione lifted her shoulders in a small shrug, tapping the receipt on the edge of the table. "I don't know… should I?"

"How the heck would I know? I'm nine years old!" Teddy quipped over a mouthful of gummy bears, nose wrinkling as he shook his head.

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**Author's Note:**

Oh hey... what's up? Here's a story I definitely shouldn't be starting but ya know... life.

Story inspirations comes from a text conversation I was having with LumosLyra where I fell in love, married and hence divorced a gorgeous brit (with a knicker soaking accent) in the span of 30 minutes while waiting at a Great Clips.

Expect weekly updates for the foreseeable future.

Alpha Love: LumosLyra  
Beta Love: DreamsofDramione

Shout out to InLovewithForever who I also used as a sounding board to make sure this plot wasn't too much—though, let's be real... it's about as extra as I am. aka .much.

until next time. xx


	2. Chapter 2

**Warning: This Chapter is NSFW**

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_beep beep_

The headlights of her pepper white MINI Cooper flashed, illuminating the dark street as she moved down the sidewalk towards Theo's townhome. Her day has been long—utterly exhausting, truthfully. After leaving the Great Mall, she'd taken Teddy to a park. Unbeknownst to her, that meant Teddy would literally walk her around the entire fucking four acre complex trying to catch a _shiny Pikachu_ on his cell phone. She still wasn't entirely sure what the fuck that meant, but regardless, it didn't change the fact her feet hurt and she was ninety percent sure her inner thighs were chaffed beyond a normal regiment lotion repair, which wasn't really condusive to the late night booty call she was about to embark on.

Yet, here she was, walking a well-worn path towards a house she most definitely should not be visiting at this hour.

There were no pretenses about the pseudo-secret relationship she'd fallen into with Theo. This was convenient—for both of them. It was mutually beneficial, in more than one way. He got off without having to worry about a relationship and she got to shag a man _well_ out of her league.

Even now, as her thumbs fired off a quick message to let him know she was walking up to his porch, she couldn't help but wonder how this all came to be. Sure, _Tres Generaciones_ had been a bit of assistance, and for that reason alone, she would always tip her hat to the mid-grade tequila, but how or why Theo decided to go after the chubby, bushy-haired best friend of his baby-mama's friend was beyond her. And why, for the love of god, he'd decided to _keep texting her for more_ was equally as baffling. Not that she was complaining!

He was remarkably handsome, with that chiseled jaw and forest green eyes. Not to mention that accent. High breeding could result in one of two outcomes from her experience, and Theo had absolutely gotten the better end of the deal.

So while she wondered what his endgame was, beyond getting his nut off, she tried not to think _too_ much about it, and just enjoyed reaping the benefits while she could because they both knew this little thing that brewed between them had an expiration date.

Though the exact end date was still a mystery, Hermione wasn't stupid enough to think it could ever last. Even if he hadn't had a child with Ginny's friend, even if he was actually interested in her for something more than sex, there was the huge glaring fact that Theo wasn't _technically_ single.

No, he practiced ethical non-monogamy. His words, not hers.

She hadn't pressed too much, but from the limited information he had freely offered, he was in a long-term relationship with some man from back home. He wasn't keen on giving it up, but…Well, living in the US made it a bit difficult in terms of intimacy, didn't it?

Which was yet another reason why this arrangement worked.

She could provide the intimacy he craved without those pesky things called feelings.

Sure, if he ever asked to go on a date, she would jump at the opportunity, but oddly enough, that never managed to come up when she was riding him to completion, or shoving his face between her thighs.

**Here.**

_Doors unlocked. Eli's already asleep—quiet coming up the stairs. X_

**Oh, so you mean to tell me I should send that second line parade home?**

_Ha-ha, very funny. X_

**I like how you assume I'm joking. **

_Keep it up and I'll bend you over my knee, Granger. X _

**Don't tease me with a good time, Nott.**

_Get up here. X _

_Now. X_

Hermione let out a small laugh, disrupting the darkness that shrouded his safe, family neighborhood. If they only knew the things this picture-perfect single father got up to in the bedroom, she was fairly certain the neighborhood posse of woefully single mothers would second guess the baskets of baked goods and casseroles they dropped off on a weekly basis.

Tucking her iPhone in her back pocket, she took the steps of his front porch two at a time, well worn Chuck Taylors squeaking on the wood as she moved across the porch and let herself in.

She made a mental note to chastise him about leaving the door unlocked later. San Jose wasn't the fucking English countryside he grew up in, and he really needed to be better about safety—especially if Eli was home. She toed off her sneakers by the front door, as usual, kicking them next to where his and Eli's sat before she flipped the deadbolt.

Moving through the darkened entryway, Hermione made it to the stairs and took them to the second floor, passing by numerous pictures of Theo and Eli's life together. Although his son was only four, there were countless memories already hung on the wall with care.

The pair at the Oakland Zoo this past fall feeding the giraffe, an infant Eli in England meeting Theo's father before he passed away, Theo and Eli on his third birthday at some bounce place, and the pair laying together on a blanket at the beach. Although Hermione was still on the fence about having spawn of her own, even _she _could admit that seeing Theo dote upon his son was charming. There was something about a good father that stoked some primal fire inside her.

Well, that and his accent.

God, she loved that accent.

Sultry and melodic, she could listen to him recite the fucking alphabet and she would likely come—though she prefered the filthy things he uttered while she visited his bed.

Down the hall, past the trail of toys that seemed to always clutter the second floor, Hermione pushed open the master bedroom door, and slipped inside, careful to shut the door softly behind her (and flip the lock because the last thing she needed was to scar some poor four year old for life). "You really ought to stop leaving your door unlocked, Mr. Nott."

Theo was already on his bed, lounging in a just a pair of form fitting gray boxer-briefs that left very little to the imagination—thank god for Calvin Klein and his ability to make tiny, tiny boxer briefs. His hair was damp, skin still pink from his shower. Pushing up further on the bed, Theo leaned his back against the padded headboard. "Why on earth would I do that? I was expecting you." Pulling the pair of black readers off his face, he tossed them on his nightstand, and with a quick flick of his wrist, his iPhone followed.

Hermione sighed, hands already at the elastic band on her joggers, shimmying them down her hips—leaving no pretense as to the reason for her late night visit. "Yes, but I could have been anybody." Kicking them off her legs as gracefully as a baby duck, Hermione managed to lose one sock in the process. Bending at the waist, she hopped on one foot as she pulled the other off.

"Oh? Like who?"

"I don't know—a burglar." Her sweatshirt, shirt, and bra followed, leaving her in just panties as she moved to the foot of the bed, hand already in her hair, unwinding the band that held up her curls.

She could feel Theo's eyes on her body, roaming over the supple curve of her breasts, traversing down the planes of her stomach, and across her wide hips. Hermione _never_ felt sexy—but in these moments with Theo, she could pretend his stare was hungry. She could pretend to be a more confident woman, because this _thing_ they'd fallen into that fateful birthday party nearly a year ago didn't threaten her with feelings.

This was just sex.

This was just two consenting adults who happened to enjoy the occasional (thrice weekly) romp when schedules allowed.

"What, pray tell, would you burgle, Hermione? My cock? Because if so, I will happily leave my door unlocked."

"Oh shut up." Hermione crawled across the bed on a tall knee, her eyes rolling with a scoff.

Theo pretended to zip his lips shut, his legs falling flat against the bed so she could crawl up them to straddle his waist. Once within reach, his large hands moved to her hips, long fingers stroking almost reverently across them to cup her backside with splayed palms as he yanked her close until his cock nestled directly against her cunt. "Mmm… best burglar ever."

Her hands ran up his chest, fingers stroking gently through the soft smattering of dark hair sprinkled across his torso. She wasn't sure she would ever get over being awe-struck by the way Theo looked—his well defined muscles, the softness of his skin as she slipped the tips of her fingers over the planes of his body. And his hair, god, he had _great_ hair—especially when she could grab fistfuls of it while his face was buried between her thighs.

Leaning down, her nose nudged gently against his until he gave into her unspoken request to tilt his head up. Her lips slotted against his with a familiar ease, and her hands moved up across his shoulders to slide into the back of his cropped brown locks.

This game they played—an unspoken alliance on the quest to find completion with one another time and time again—should have been easy. It should've been uncomplicated, and result in zero affections, but that invisible boundary she'd drawn around her heart always struggled with remembering the rules in these moments.

When his tongue pushed past her lips, his hands grabbed fistfuls of her arse, squeezing and kneading the supple flesh, guiding each roll of her hips against him as his cock ground against her cloth-covered core, leaving zero question as to his intentions with her.

She could feel him grow beneath the thin material of his briefs, the head of his cock nudging against her clit, eliciting a soft gasp while her nails scratched lightly at his scalp.

Theo chuckled, soft puffs of air filling his lungs as his grip tightened. It bordered on painful as he arched up to grind against her purposefully, using her body as an instrument for his own pleasure.

Her eyes fluttered beneath her lids as slow waves of pleasure tickled down her limbs, and before she could react, Theo had rolled her onto her back, his body crushing hers into the mattress.

The weight of his body pushed the air from her lungs, making it difficult to suck in as much oxygen as her brain needed to properly function, but there was something delicious about the burn it left in its wake. That oxygen deprived, warm fuzz clouded her vision, and made her fingers tingle, which seemed to only heighten this act.

His lips moved across her jaw and down the column of her neck, hands running over her thighs, caressing her self perceived imperfections and dimpled skin with a sense of worship that felt surreal even after all this time. He hooked his fingers under the backs of her knees and pulled her legs into the position he wanted, firmly planting her feet against his mattress, spread wide open to accommodate his hips.

His dominance was one of the _numerous_ reasons she enjoyed these little trysts with Theo. There was no guessing as to what he wanted or if she was doing something right. He would simply mold her to perfection—angle her hips with his strong hands or arch her back with pressure from his touch. Or, when all else failed, he would literally pick her up and take his pleasure from her in any way he chose, and truth be told, those nights were her favorites.

"Hands up." His teeth nipped at the sensitive skin on her collarbone as he began to work his way down her body, wicked hands caressing up the skin on her thighs, dancing along the junction of her thigh and pelvis in soft, teasing strokes.

"I—ah! Theo maybe we—" Her hips involuntarily rocked towards his hand when she felt his fingertips run across her slit, dipping in just enough to brush against her clit with featherlight precision as he reached the top. She felt his stomach rumble with laughter between her thighs before she heard the soft, throaty noise. His smile pressed against the swell of her breast, stretching wide across his full lips before he wrapped them around her nipple. "_Fuck_—Theo, I uh… I haven't showered today and—"

"And?" He mouthed around her breast, teeth scraping against her nipple until it formed a hard peak in the hot confines of his mouth. Leaving it, he began to kiss his way down the swell of one breast and up the other, fingers slipping between her folds to caress the most intimate part of her. "Do you think I care?"

"But—"

"But nothing." He bit at the underside of her breast, dark green eyes leveling with hers. "I'm going to make you come all over my face, Hermione… and only once you're sopping wet, and beg me properly, will I fuck this perfect little cunt of yours." As if to punctuate his point, he pressed two fingers inside her, palm towards the ceiling as he curled them to brush against that spot that only he seemed to know "Is that understood?"

How on earth could she argue? She was no fucking hero, and Theo, god bless, was a dominant man who appeared to be unwilling to take any sort of hesitation for an answer. Her hands curled into the plush bedding at her sides, nails scraping against his comforter as her hips rose to meet the slow push and pull of his fingers.

"I said—" His lips were on her stomach now, pressing open mouthed kisses against the softness that never seemed to fade, even when she was at her thinnest. "Do you understand?"

His fingers curled, pressing harshly against _that_ spot, and stars burst behind her eyelids. Her voice caught in her throat and she could only let out a loud whimper in recognition that she was certain would never fulfill his requirement for a verbal response.

Since he seemed keen on robbing her of her ability to orally communicate, she did the next best thing. Moving her hands from her side, she reached above her head to grip the pillow, complying with his earlier command.

"_Good girl._" The praise cut right through her, eviscerating any sense of hesitation she had about letting him venture south. She shivered in anticipation as she felt him mouth his way farther down her body. "I love it when you listen to me—so bloody hot."

Impulse told her to talk back—to test his boundaries the way she loved to, because while his praise was fucking awe-inspiring, it was when he 'disciplined' her that the she got a real thrill. But just as soon as she found her voice, a retort on the tip of her tongue ready to make its way into the quiet of his bedroom, his tongue joined his fingers at her cunt.

He delivered wickedly decadent flicks of his tongue against her clit, starting slow and building. Soon her hips simply couldn't rock in time with the pace of his mouth and fingers, and it was all she could do to hold onto the pillow above her head to ground her to the moment.

His free hand pressed against her quivering inner thigh, one large hand holding her leg lewdly splayed as he lay on his belly below her. She could feel the mattress shift, and as she picked her head up, neck craning to get a good visual of what was happening, she watched through half-lidded eyes as he ground against his mattress, trying to relieve some of the ache from his erection.

If that visual wasn't enough to thrill her and send her teetering over the edge, the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back was when his eyes found hers. His mouth was still firmly latched to her cunt, tongue swirling around the bud of her clit with an expert familiarity, but she didn't need to see his entire face to know exactly what he was feeling. No, his eyes told her all she needed to know.

He looked at her as if she were the most beautiful creature on the planet. As if he wanted nothing more than to bring her to climax again, and again, and again. As if his only job in life was to bring her pleasure, and adore her, and worship every inch of her body.

And it was in that moment, in the seconds before her climax would overtake her body and brain, that she forgot this was _just_ sex and she could pretend Theo actually felt that way about her—that this was _more_.

Her hips rose off the mattress, nails ripping at the million thread count pillowcase as the swell of her orgasm consumed her. Her throat felt raw and rough, her moans echoing around them. Had they not done this what felt like a million times over, she might have been worried about waking up his son. Thank fuck for whoever invented sound-proof walls because they honestly deserved a Nobel Prize—and Starbucks. She'd happily splurge on a Venti for that genius.

Her thighs latched onto his head, holding him firmly in place as she rode out the high of her climax on his fingers and tongue. His name bled into the room, as if saying it repeatedly would begin to make him understand how fucking amazing it was—how she never _ever_ wanted him to stop. And just as the crest consumed her, the intense pleasure tightening her abdominal muscles, fluttering the walls of her cunt around her fingers, she fell back to the mattress, legs falling open bonelessly.

"_Oh… _Theo—_fuck_, Theo, stop." Her right hand shot down, fingers twisting into his dark hair and she pulled his mouth away from her over-sensitized clit, his lips detaching from her with an audible pop.

His chin and cheeks glistened with her juices. When his fingers left her clenching quim, she denied the empty feeling that invaded her bones—it was pathetic, how desperate he made her with just a single look. He lifted the two fingers to his lips and wasted no time licking them clean. She could see glimpses of his pink tongue slip between his fingers, making sure to gather every last ounce of _her_.

"Mmm," he hummed as he pushed up to a tall knee. His eyes were nearly black, pupils blown wide with desire. This was the same look the men in those ancient paintings bore—the type of instability that caused then to conquer cities and wage wars. Gulping, she watched, dumbfounded as he drew his fingers from his mouth, and moved to push down his boxers, working the thick band over his cock and down his muscular thighs. "I know you're wet… so all you need to do—"

"_Please_." She didn't let him finish, she knew precisely what he wanted from her. Even if he hasn't told her before going down on her, she would have known. Theo's kinks ran deep and wide like the fucking Grand Canyon of fucked up depravity. He wasn't into anything too worrisome, but begging, mild dominance, and the occasional finger in his arse—all of which Hermione would happily comply with. "Please fuck me, Theo."

"Hmmm… I'm not sure that was good enough."

His hand was already on his cock, slowly stroking himself from root to tip as he watched her. Her mouth felt dry, and she helplessly gulped to try and quench her thirst as she watched him. Fuck, he was handsome.

"_Please_ fuck me—" Her voice wavered with need, and she pulled her legs back so she could push herself up on her knees before him, feet resting on the pillow her head had previously claimed. "I'll be good. I'll be _your_ good girl."

His teeth sunk into his bottom lip, and she could tell from the way his chest rose and fell with a new rhythm that she'd managed to hit all the boxes on his kink chart.

Sex before Theo was fine.

It wasn't as often as she got it now, but it suited her appetite. Her previous suitors weren't nearly as adventurous, but it didn't necessarily make it _bad—_just plain, like vanilla yogurt. Adequate and fulfilling. But Theo had brought forth a side of her that Hermione wasn't sure ever existed before. Suddenly, she was fine with dirty talk, in fact, she craved the purr of filthy words that filled the night. She needed his rough touch, the marks of his fingers and nails on her skin. It was like waking from a very long slumber—like this part of her had always been there, but lay dormant waiting for someone to show her the way.

"Hands and knees… show me" He spoke the words as a command, and Hermione scrambled to comply.

Twisting on the mattress, she had to scoot back from the headboard so her head didn't smack it when she bent at the waist, presenting him her backside just the way she knew he liked. Her spine dipped, her arse up in the air, and her legs shoulder width apart.

"Perfect."

The praise made her shiver, and behind her, she could feel the mattress sink with his weight as he edged closer until she felt his knees brush against hers. Warmth radiated across her skin, and she was sure there was a pink flush to match the feeling, but when she felt the head of his cock sweep through the folds of her cunt, she couldn't find even an ounce of shame to care.

One hand curled around her waist, fingers digging into the soft skin at her hip, and the other pressed onto her lower back, forcing her to arch up high, her face pressing into the pillow as she lowered her hands to get the angle perfect.

"Tell me you want this cock… Tell me you dream about me fucking you."

Her eyes clenched shut, fingers curling into the pillow in anticipation as he notched his cock at her core, the light pressure causing her pussy to flutter in some feeble attempt to take him inside her. "I want your cock, Theo… All I want is your cock." Her voice was light, barely a whisper into the quiet of his dimly lit room. "Please fuck me. All I want is for you to fuck me. I dream about your cock inside—_meee!"_

Suddenly he was filling her, the quick stretch of him bottoming out inside her, stealing her lungs, and the words and praise and declarations of his prowess vanished from her mind. All she could think about was how fucking _full_ she felt with him so deep inside her.

"_Fuuuck!_" She distantly heard him as his hips smacked against her arse with a loud slap. "So… fucking… tight."

The pressure began to build in an instant, his cock hitting depths that felt borderline illegal. Maybe it was an accent thing, because she did fucking _love_ that accent, but hearing the soft groans of her name and his obscene words fill the room drove her quickly towards the edge of yet another climax.

She leaned back, allowing him to tug her body into his with each snap of his hips as she tried to fight back her inevitable release, knowing that when it finally did come, it would be the end of their fun. One orgasm was more than enough to leave her happy and fulfilled, but two was damn near euphoric. Who needed drugs when she had Theodore Nott's enormous cock and wicked tongue? Certainly not her.

"—going to come… So fucking perfect."

His thrusts grew more and more erratic, out of time with the pace he'd set, and she whimpered when his hand at the small of her back slipped lower and lower until his thumb brushed between the globes of her ass to apply just a hint of pressure against the furrowed hole.

"Theo!"

_That_ was a line they had yet to breach, and in an instant, a maelstrom of pleasure, excitement, and anxiety bubbled up, propelling her over the final precipice. Her body went rigid as her ograsm ripped through her, and soon the incoherent babble of moans and primal noises were all she could release as she rode the final waves of her climax.

Theo moved behind her, thrusting a small handful of times before he followed suit, his cock buried deep inside her, allowing her cunt to milk as much of his seed from his body as it could. His hands moved to stroke softly against her lower back, thumbs sweeping affectionately across the downy hair that coated her frame before he fell on the bed beside her and pulled her into his arms.

She didn't fight the affection—though, to be fair, she wasn't entirely certain she was even capable of using her limbs at this moment in time. The sound of their heavy breathing filled the otherwise quiet room, and she let her head fall against his chest, the wild thump of his heart grounding her to the world as opposed to drifting off to sleep in some post-cotius slumber.

They lay silent, his arms encircled around her torso, fingers stroking up and down her spine as they collected their breath, and just when her heart slowed, and the light layer of sweat coating her body began to chill, the distinct shrill of a text message tone cut through the night.

It wasn't just any generic tone though—no, this was one she'd heard time and time again. This one was specially programmed, designed to let him know the importance of who the sender was.

This was the tone for the _other person_ in Theo's life.

Though, technically speaking, _she _was the other person, because the message he'd received was from his boyfriend. A man Hermione literally knew nothing about—something she wholeheartedly preferred.

As if their fuck-buddy relationship wasn't weird enough, adding in the complication of Theo being polyamorus and having a boyfriend back home in England was something she tried to forget.

Hermione waited for him to move, her lips pressing together expectantly, but Theo didn't so much as twitch. His hand maintained the steady trail up and down her spine, his lungs slowly filling and expelling his breath.

The chime came again… and then again, and Theo continued to ignore the barrage of messages until the tenth time rang out. With a soft groan, he unwrapped his arms from around her, murmuring a soft apology as he rolled to retrieve his phone from the nightstand.

"It's fine." Hermione licked her lips, wasting no time as she scooted to the edge, eyes darting around the room to assess where her clothing landed in her haste to undress earlier. "Must be important."

"It always is." Theo shimmied into his boxers while swiping his thumb across the illuminated screen. He rose from the bed, hand already in his hair, smoothing it back on his head as he crossed his room towards the en suite bathroom. "Can you just give me a minu—wait, are you leaving ?"

Hermione looked up from where she'd hunched over, stepping into her panties. "Uh… yeah."

"Oh… it's late."

"Mhm." Hermione yanked her joggers over her feet and bounced on her toes as she hiked them over her wide hips. "Which is precisely why I need to go home."

"You can stay, of course, if you want." Theo turned off his phone screen, letting the hand holding it hang loosely by his hip as he watched her from across his room. "Eli would be keen to see you in the morning."

"Sweet, but… I don't think that's a good idea, Theo." She grabbed her bra, folding it awkwardly before stuffing it into her pocket, and she plucked her shirt off the floor before yanking it over her head. "I doubt your boyfriend would approve and I really don't want to explain _this"—_she gestured between them quickly—"to E.M or Ginny."

"Ella-Mae won't care."

"Yeaaah. I'd rather not find out."

For a second, the briefest of moments, she could have sworn she saw sadness cloud his eyes, but just as quickly as it appeared, the emotion vanished. Instead, a small smile tugged the corner of his lips and Theo nodded. "You're right. You snore and I don't really want to deal with that."

"First off, I _do not_ snore." Hermione snorted, tugging on her mismatched socks. "Secondly, rude! Even if I did, you don't tell a lady she snores. You're fucking British, aren't you supposed to be all about chivalry and nicities."

"Hardly. We're fluent in sarcasm and backhanded compliments from birth—it's literally in our DNA."

"Wow… Oddly enough, that explains a lot."

Theo laughed, his eyes lighting up, and just as his mouth opened, his phone sounded again and the screen burst to life. He let out a quick sigh, eyes rolling as he lifted his phone to check the message, which only earned a soft tinkle of her own laughter.

"Tell him I said hello and thanks for sharing." Okay, so she really _didn't _want that, but she also knew Theo would never dare pass the message along. From what little she _did_ know—beyond them disclosing they were seeing, and in their case, sleeping with other people—they didn't talk about their other relationships.

"I'll get right on that." Theo sighed, thumbs already firing off a message and he looked up through his thick lashes when the telltale creak of his bedroom door sounded. "Hey."

"Hrmm?" Hermione looked over her shoulder, hands in her curls, pulling them back so she could subdue the riotous mass into a bun for her drive home.

"Wednesday? Eli's going to be at Ella-Mae's."

Her stomach tightened, a forbidden hopefulness tingling low in her belly despite the fact she knew that _this_ was nothing—this thing between them was _just sex_. There wasn't more, there could never be more. "I think I can pencil you in."

"How gracious of you. I do know your social schedule is practically brimming," Theo snarked, that slow cheeky grin spreading across his lips.

"Yeah—well, you know what they say." Hermione let her hand fall against the side of the door, fingers curling around the wood. "Gotta spend time with the little people."

"Oh? I'm little, am I?"

"Well… I mean… not really, but if I say you are, will you try to prove me wrong on Wednesday?"

"Absolutely."

"Then you're positively tiny."

Theo laughed, one of those booming belly laughs that made her heart swell, and she couldn't help but join in as she watched his head tip back, his grin stretching so wide it made his eyes smile, too. "Goodnight Hermione."

"Night Theo." She left the door ajar as she slipped out of his bedroom, tiptoeing past Eli's bedroom door and around the trail of toys. She descended the stairs quickly and stuffed her feet into the well-worn Converse as she fished her keys from the pocket of her joggers, threading the ring around her index finger.

Theo's bedroom light turned off, the soft glow no longer acting as a beacon at the top of the stairs for her to find him, and she paused just before opening his front door. It would be so easy to go back upstairs, to throw caution to the wind and curl up under his expensive sheets. He'd let her because that's just the kind of guy he was—nice, understanding, the kind of guy who gave dollar bills to homeless even though she'd told him time and time again to stop.

But she wouldn't.

She couldn't.

They'd already crossed too many lines.

But that final one, the sleep overs, that was one she absolutely _couldn't _cross, because if she did, she wouldn't be able to protect her heart from falling for him.

Steeling her resolve, Hermione opened the front door. Twisting the small lock on the handle (because buglars were a very real fucking thing, despite Theo's naivety) she pulled it shut behind her as she stepped into the night.

She had a twenty minute drive home, and she still had to feed Crookshanks before she crawled into bed. It would easily be two or three in the morning by the time she found sleep. She had to be up early to catch breakfast, but the ache between her thighs that bloomed to life with each step she took down the darkened sidewalk was a pleasant reminder that the lack of sleep would be worth it.

Besides, there were multiple Starbucks on her route to Zamora's.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Oh hey! Sorry for the missed week last week! Real life happened for me & the beta. Regardless, I was able to get five chapters pre-written and have a good idea of how this is all going to wrap up. so... bonus! I hope you all don't hate me too much for waiting and enjoy this small serving of smut ala filthy mouthed Theodore Nott.

until next time xx.


	3. Chapter 3

She should be working.

Really—she should.

PaidPal paid her nearly a six figure salary to do actual fucking work. But her phone kept buzzing during her morning break out session with her team, and well… Texting Draco seemed like a hell of a lot more fun than reviewing the stack of potential candidate files for the vacant Senior Executive Position in Market Forecasting.

Realistically, there were only so many times she could compare Yale to Harvard without gouging her eyes out in one single day, and she'd hit her limit by application packet number five. Leaving the work of sorting through the rest of the files to her team, Hermione narrowly escaped back to the solitude of her own office where she could blow off work and text back and forth with the handsome blond behind the safety of a closed door.

**What sort of job allows you to take a three month vacation?**

_That is a bit more complicated than I care to answer via text. _

_It would be better explained when I take you out this Friday._

**Is that so? What about your son?**

_Correct me if I'm wrong, but I do believe your country has things called babysitters. _

**We, in fact, do. **

_So… Friday? _

_Wine. Good food. Half-way decent company. Are you in?_

Leaning back in her company supplied ergonomic chair, she lifted her shoeless feet to the top of her desk, a smile tugging on her lips. Friday was still two days away, and although she technically had plans to visit Theo this evening, the prospect of being taken out on a real date, the kind where a man picked her up, and she wore more than day old eyeliner and mascara… Well, even she could admit the idea sounded kind of nice.

It had been ages since she'd been taken out on a proper date. Sure, in the beginning of whatever the hell she had going on with Theo, she'd try—full face makeup, good underwear, freshly shaved and showered—but when it became apparent that nothing more than the bedroom rodeo was coming of that… Well, who really gave a shit if she looked nice? All he wanted was a fuck, right?

**Wine you say? A man after my own heart.**

_Or just trying to get into your trousers._

Snorting, she leaned farther back as her body sunk low in the chair, her lower back hanging over the seat pan in what was surely the most un-managerial way possible, but she was ninety percent certain she'd locked her door when she made her hasty escape earlier from the meeting from Hell.

**Ahh… makes much more sense. Ply me with expensive wine and then I'll give in.**

_Who said it was going to be expensive?_

**Me. **

_Ahh… so if I agree to your terms we're on for Friday?_

**::thinking emojii:: I mean… **

_Did I mention a charcuterie board?_

**Artisan cheeses?**

_It's over priced cheese on a board with lunch meat… I'm not entirely sure how it could be artisan._

_Let's say yes for the sake of convincing you to go with me._

"'Mione, are you going to the—"

"Ah!" Her body tensed at the sudden intrusion, legs locking as she tried to overcorrect her sloppy posture in her office chair, which only managed to send her shooting backwards into the bookshelf behind her desk. She knocked a couple books off the shelf as well as a glass award she'd been given two years ago for her efforts in piloting the Executive Recruitment and Retention Program. "Holy fucking shit!"

Harry stood in her doorway, palm still curled around her door handle, and he watched as more of her personal effects tumbled off the shelf behind her, landing with loud _thumps _on the floor after bouncing off her head and shoulders. "Oh shit, are you alright?!"

Hermione groaned, her hand already on the crown her head, fingers rubbing where the spine of her copy of _Agile People_ hit. "Uh… yeah. Just a minor concussion." Bending low, she picked up the book from her bare feet, and tossed it onto her desk, before beginning to wheel back towards it. "No big deal. Football players get them all the time with zero long term effects—right?"

"Bugger." Harry laughed as he slipped into her office, letting the door close softly behind him. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's fine." Hermione waved her hand dismissively. Her inability to function like a normal human was clearly not his fault. This was far from the first time she'd floundered like some wounded animal when caught off guard, and unfortunately, it would likely not be the last time either. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of you gracing me with your presence, Mr. Potter?"

"Since when do I need a reason to come visit my best friend?" Harry moved across her cluttered office, side stepping the stack of freshly printed onboarding manuals she had laying directly beside the two chairs in front of her desk.

"The last time you slummed it down here in HR, you asked me to help you hire an entire team of coders—"

"You mean I asked you to do _your job?_" Plucking the Trader Joe's bag containing workout clothes (complete with the tags still attached) that had claimed the chair for the past two weeks, he tossed it in the corner behind her before flopping down in a wide-legged stance.

"My job isn't to help you hire anyone, Harry. Let alone do it in two fucking weeks because you slacked off doing _your job." _She pursed her lips to the corner of her mouth, eyes narrowing on the man-child who had become her best friend over the course of the last three years.

How it all came together was still rather odd.

Finding her best friend at the ripe age of twenty-seven was a bit late, but Hermione never did things the _normal _way. Why she thought that aspect of her life would be any different was foolish.

It had started out normal enough—she was assigned the new Senior Manager for Sales Strategy and Analytics to onboard. She'd actually helped hire him, her first recommendation to the Senior Executives, so he'd already earned a spot on her good side.

She'd showed up early, decorated his office in Chelsea Football Club's blue and white, which was rather unfortunate as she'd come to find out later that he was an Arsenal fan. He seemed to take her color scheme faux pas in stride and enjoyed the basket of British candy she'd snagged from the World Market up the road.

She'd escorted him around the complex, showing him the odds and ends of their vast campus and how to utilize their scooter share program and book conference rooms. That first day she'd even bought him lunch, despite the fact he made nearly double her salary—a small fact she'd never let him forget. It seemed that kindness had somehow convinced him to befriend her.

Well, that or the fact that she continued to show up in his office to check on him over the course of the next six months because she wanted that retention bonus if he stuck around.

Regardless, the constant pestering, coffee breaks (or tea in his case) and eventual happy hours after work seemed to wear him down. After six months, Harry finally invited her over for dinner with his family, and the rest, as they say, was history.

Ginny and Hermione hit it off. Their common interest? Making fun of Harry, of course. And Teddy, sweet, baby angel Teddy won her heart over instantly. She liked her friendship with Harry and thought the world of his wife, but it was that little boy that sealed the deal for her. Harry knew it, and often joked the only reason she'd stuck around was for Teddy. He wasn't wrong, but she liked to let him think otherwise.

Their friendship, although technically still in its infancy, seemed to bypass years. They'd developed a bond that normally took others decades to form—they were _family_. Harry, she'd found shortly after meeting him, was an orphan, like herself. Although the circumstances in which they'd found themselves without parents was different, the result was the same.

They had no one beyond the people they chose to surround themselves with.

And her choice was The Potters, which by proxy included the _numerous_ members of Ginny's family when they came to visit. Thankfully, it wasn't too often.

"Are you seriously going to hold that over my head, _again?_" Harry sighed, emerald eyes rolling towards the ceiling dramatically as he tipped his head back. "Can we please just—"

"Uh! Abso-fucking-lutely I am," Hermione interrupted, lifting up a single finger. "I had to stay here until midnight for an entire week because you fucked up—_midnight_, Harry. As in twelve in the goddamn morning."

"_And_ I said I was sorry—countless times… with several cups of Starbucks and bagels if I remember correctly."

"Force feeding me caffeine and carbs like some junkie needing a fix isn't a thank you, Harry, it's enabling and you know what? Dr. Now does _not_ approve of enabling."

Harry lifted his head, a single black brow raised as he peered through the filthy lenses of his black framed glasses at her. "Did you really just use a television doctor to reprimand me?"

"Fuck yes I did!" Hermione leaned back in her chair, arms crossing over her bust. "So, if you've come down here to tell me you fucked off your responsibilities _again_, I would suggest calling your _very_ pregnant wife and telling her that you'll be sleeping in your office for the next two weeks while you get work done."

"First off, I'm glad to know where the boundaries of our friendship lay."

_...bzzz...bzzz…_

Hermione eyed her phone, which sat face down on the desk, debating the merits of checking it in front of Harry. On one hand, he likely wouldn't care or ask, but she knew—just fucking _knew—_that she'd get that stupid grin on her face when she read whatever Draco said. The last thing she really wanted to deal with was trying to explain how she was going to go on a date with a stranger she met while baby-sitting Teddy.

_...bzzz...bzzz…_

"_Secondly,_ you'll be happy to know my visit isn't work related." Harry lifted a foot to the side of her desk, using it to help tip him back in the chair so he was balanced precariously on two legs. "I was coming to check on you since you haven't responded to my messages."

"Messages?" Cocking her head to the side, she let her hands fall gracelessly against the armrests on her chair, all false pretenses of ire slipping from her expression as her brows lowered in confusion. "You haven't sent me any messages."

"I have—several in fact." Harry threaded his fingers behind his neck, elbows pointing to opposite walls of her office in a wide stretch. "Don't you check WhatsApp?"

_...bzzz...bzzz…_

"Ooooh yeah—no. I don't." Shaking her head, she let out a small scoff.

Harry sighed. "Seriously Hermione? We literally set up a family chat just for us."

"Us _and _all twenty members of Ginny's family. It is nearly impossible to keep up most days." Between Ron's constant stream of memes and the twins' inability not to fuel that fire, the chat was a minefield of what Hermione considered to be the worst of the internet. She tended to avoid it at all costs, which meant only opening the damn app twice a week—maximum. "Besides, you have my number, just fucking text me if it's important."

"Or, I don't know, use the family chat? You're an honorary Weasley according to Molly, you can't just rescind the title."

Hermione shook her head, thick curls bouncing wildly with each hurried snap. "I don't believe I ever asked for it."

"Well it's too bloody late now, isn't it? You accepted the Christmas sweater, you're stuck." Harry lifted his shoulders in time with his brows, the full body shrug making it clear that she had little say in the matter.

"How was I supposed to know accepting a present was an open invitation to chaos?"

"I tried to warn you!" Harry tossed a hand in her direction, eyes wide.

_...bzzz...bzzz…_

"What?" Shifting forward, she planted her elbows on the thick calendar padding her desk. "You did no such thing!"

"I did, too. I gave you the look." Harry dropped his chair down on all four legs with a theatrical snap, hands curling around the worn armrests as he scooted closer.

"The look?"

"Yes, you know—_the look_."

"Clearly I have no fucking idea what you're talking about."

_...bzzz...bzzz…_

She watched helplessly as Harry's eyes flickered from her face to the phone that sat in the middle of her desk. Sucking her bottom lip into her mouth, she chewed thoughtfully on it.

_...bzzz...bzzz…_

Silence fell between them, lingering like a giant elephant in her small office. Normally she wouldn't have hesitated to respond to a text in front of him, but under normal circumstances, she wasn't flirting with a handsome blond.

_...bzzz...bzzz…_

Harry was the first to speak up, his hand lifting to gesture to the vibrating phone."Are you going to get that?"

"Uh… No, it's not important." Hermione waved her hand in front of her, sitting back as casually as she could in her desk chair and crossing her legs. "It's fine."

"Well obviously it is _very _important, seeing as you keep getting notifications." Harry eyed the iPhone again. She could literally see the wheels within his brain churn to life, a slow forming plan evident across his face. Like Teddy trying to snatch a cookie from the jar without being seen, she watched his hand begin to creep across her desk towards the device.

_...bzzz...bzzz…_

"Okay fine!" Just as his fingertips passed her stapler, Hermione lurched forward and snatched the phone before Harry had the opportunity. "Just—give me a second, okay?"

_I just searched for a place on Google with the keyword artisan cheese._

_I can confirm without a shadow of a doubt they claim to have them._

_So… _

_You there?_

_Is your silence a no? _

_Did I offend your cheese loving morals? _

_I wasn't aware Americans took dairy products that seriously._

_Hermione?_

Her stomach twisted with a wave of joy, bursting the riotous butterflies that cocooned inside to life. She'd almost forgotten this feeling—new romance. Sure, there was definitely a timeline on this dance she was beginning with Draco, seeing as he was only in the US on vacation for the next couple of months, but the prospect of having someone want her, not just sexually, but really _want_ to be around her.

Well, it was nice.

It was flattering.

A burst of nervous laughter tickled up her throat, and before she could think better of it, a wide smile spread across her lips.

**Sorry! Best friend walked in my office. Yes, we're on.**

**I'll pick the place though—I have an idea. Something more… American.**

**And for the record, I do love cheese, but I don't think that is exclusive to my people.**

_Well, tell her you have more important things to do. Like responding to a charming British citizen in need of some cultural education._

**I think he might be in need of some himself, truthfully. He's one of your kind.**

_He?_

Ahh yes.

She'd almost forgotten.

The idea of cross-gender friendships, although not unusual, was still not the societal norm. God forbid a woman and a man have a platonic adult relationship.

"Who is he?" Harry tapped the desk, pulling her attention up from her screen.

"Uh…"

"Don't lie to me Hermione." Harry rose out of his chair just slightly, trying to peer down at her phone. "You don't smile like that unless there's someone you like on the opposite end."

**Yep. He. And he's currently trying to figure out what I'm saying to you.**

_So now probably isn't the best time to send that dick pic?_

**I mean… is it an option?**

"Hermione Jean!"

Her eyes darted up from the glowing screen to find her best friend's jaw dropped and brows lifted. As if his sensible morals had been offended at her request—like she hadn't accidentally viewed nudes from his very pregnant wife no less than a week earlier when trying to find the address for the Malaysian place in Milpitas they liked. "What?"

"Don't what me!" Harry leaned across the table, making a grab for the phone. "Who is this guy?"

Hermione scooted back quickly, the wheels in her chair squeaking in protest. "No one you know!" She tucked her phone against her chest, ignoring the vibrations that rocked her sternum from Draco's reply.

"I know everyone you know—you literally have no other friends," Harry deadpanned as he leaned across the table, just the tips of his fingers brushing the back of her hand. "Give it here!"

"Harry!" Hermione scooted farther back, her nylons causing her feet to slip across the tile floor before she sunk her weight onto the balls of her feet and thrust back just enough to put more distance between them without running into her bookshelf—_again._ "Please stop, okay?"

Harry stayed poised over her desk, a single hand planted in the center, holding his body aloft. "Okay… okay." He moved slowly back, claiming the chair once again, but the playfulness that had once glittered in his eyes began to fade into something akin to concern. "I just… want to make sure he's a decent bloke is all."

It was the same expression she'd seen him wear countless times before—that deep seated need to make sure all the people in his life were happy, safe, and well taken care of. It was that empathy that made her pursue becoming his friend in the first place—signing bonus aside— Harry was genuinely a good man.

The first time she'd gotten sick after knowing him, he'd brought her homemade soup like some sort of British Martha Stewart! He'd _offered_ to help her move when her lease came up. When he took Ginny to Hawaii last year, he brought her back a damn gift—not one of those 'here's a magnet I picked up at the airport' gifts or shitty t-shirt. No, he got her a book on ancient Polynesian customs and rituals from The Polynesian Cultural Center because he knew she loved to read.

Which is precisely why _that _look sent a twinge of guilt blooming deep within her heart.

Fuck, she loved him dearly—strictly platonically—but he made it so fucking difficult to keep secrets.

Sighing, she peered down at her phone when it vibrated once again.

_I was joking._

_Unless you're serious… In which case, I'll need five minutes._

_...Your silence means you were joking right?_

**Yes. Joking. I like to leave some things as a surprise.**

**I need to get back to work. Can I text you later?**

_You mean you cannot devote an entire day to texting me?_

_I clearly need to write a letter of complaint to your employer._

**Feel free. ****Complaints **

_PaidPal? Fancy._

**Hardly.**

_Alright, get back to work. I'll await your message later._

**Thank you. Talk to you then.**

_One last thing…_

Hermione glanced up to Harry, lifting one finger to buy her just a moment longer.

_As a point of reference, I wouldn't mind it if _you _ruined the surprise…_

_Just thought I'd let you know._

**::eyeroll emoji:: Wouldn't you be so lucky?**

_A man can try, right?_

**Bye Draco.**

_Have a good day at work._

"Okay. I'm all yours." She set her phone face down on the desk and let her hands hover beside it, fingertips just grazing the paper of her desk calendar as she caught Harry's critical gaze. Sucking her bottom lip into her mouth, she waited, letting the silence linger between them until the tension from his unspoken reprimand became too much to bear.

"It's nothing serious… I swear. If it _does_ go somewhere, I'll let you know but—" Taking pause, she inhaled deeply, letting her lungs fully expand until she couldn't take a single ounce more. With a heavy exhale, she tried to rid herself of the unnecessary guilt that was eating at her consciousness. "But, I'd very much like to enjoy it while I figure out… what it is exactly."

Harry nodded, his index and middle finger tapping on the outside of his thigh in the tell-tale sign of discontent. She watched his jaw work, as if he were literally trying to formulate words before opening his mouth. This struggle to find a balance between supportive best-friend and pseudo-brother was a war she knew Harry struggled with. It was this exact protectiveness that made her keep her meet ups with Theo a secret.

She didn't want the judgmental stares nor the disapproving tone. And she hardly needed him to ruin her arrangement by talking to him about it.

Besides, it wasn't that she didn't want him to know, but rather there was no sense in introducing anyone to him if it wasn't going to last!

"Okay…" His voice trailed off, and he pursed his lips into a thin line before sucking in another deep breath. "Okay, fine. Will you at least tell me _when_ you go on dates and where? That way if you go missing, I'll at least be able to provide the police with some information."

Hermione snorted, the corners of her lips lifting in the smallest of smiles and she nodded. "Sure, Harry. I'll give you the bare minimum if you think it's needed." And he had the gall to call _her _dramatic? Hello pot, meet kettle. "We're meeting up Friday. I'm going to take him to Smuggler's Cove."

"Wow… You must like this guy if you're willing to take him there," Harry mused.

Hermione shrugged, her index finger tapping lightly on the back of her phone. "He's alright. Witty, kinda snarky, even." Okay, yes, he was right, she did have a genuine interest in Draco, but it went beyond surface level. Don't get her wrong, he was _incredibly_ handsome, but it wasn't until they'd started texting that she realized there were brains within that beautiful body.

He was clever, easily able to spar with her verbally, and he kept up with her rather dry sense of humor without pause. But what sealed the deal was when he mentioned he'd spent hours in the Barnes and Noble on Stevens Creek. A sarcastic, funny, book lover _with _a nice accent? Well, it was _almost_ too good to be true, but she wasn't going to hold his poor taste in soccer teams over his head.

"Will you still be able to come to brunch on Saturday?" Harry cocked his head to the side. "Ron's coming in tomorrow night and he's really looking forward to seeing you."

"Ugggh… not this again."

Ron.

The meme king.

The bane of her WhatsApp existence.

She knew Harry was loyal to his brother-in-law, having actually befriended him before meeting Ginny, but she often wondered how on Earth the pair came to be friends—let alone how they managed to be in the same room and not burn down the bloody house.

They were so similar, yet exactly opposite.

Where Harry was mature and level headed, Ron seemed to have stopped progressing at seventeen.

Somehow, despite the oh-so-obvious fact that Ron was absolutely, one hundred percent, not her type, both Ginny and Harry had taken it upon themselves to play matchmaker, like that old crabby lady from Mulan, and set her up with him.

Which would have been bad enough, but they were also neglecting one _huge_ factor that would forever prevent her from ever dating the youngest Weasley male.

Ron was gay.

Not that so far in the closet he doesn't even know he's gay-gay, but rather the 'out but still nervous about it' kind of gay.

His Instagram was covered in photos of the redhead at various bars and nightclubs around London, all with impeccably dressed men. There were also the vacations he went on—Ibza, Spain, the French Alps. All beautifully picturesque, take a date kind of places, and they were all taken with some gorgeous hunk of man meat named Blaise.

It was so painfully obvious, how Harry and Ginny had managed to miss it over the years was almost comical. Clearly, for as close as their family was, they still seemed to lack the fundamentals, such as communicating with one another.

"What? He is!" She could hear the hope in his voice as his tone lifted just slightly.

"Mhm." Hermione nodded, her hand lifting to rub across her eyelids, smearing the light layer of granite eyeshadow she'd carefully applied that morning. "Uh… Yeah, I'll be there in time for brunch."

"Perfect!" Harry clapped his hands and rubbed them together like he was some sort of comic book supervillain as opposed to a horrid cupid. "Can you bring some orange juice?"

"Only if you have champagne," Hermione murmured under her breath.

"What?"

"I said of course," Hermione lied, dropping her hand to her lap. She forced a smile on her lips as she looked up to find Harry already standing beside her office door. "Anything else?"

"Mmm. I think we got the rest, but if we need something, I'll message you." Harry pulled open the door, the blinds that covered the glass clapping loudly. He was halfway across the threshold, his loafer hovering mid-air, when he froze, fingers on his free hand snapping. "Oh! Are you going to Richardsen's nine-o-clock tomorrow?"

"Ehh… I hadn't planned on it. I was probably just going to send a proxy, why?"

"Queenie?"

"No, she's on a big project with integrated systems. Probably Leta."

"Spot on. Can you have her send me the meeting minutes? I've had something come up and can't attend."

Her eyes flickered to her desk calendar as her fingers nudged her phone off of the square that covered the following day. Ha! Of course. "Is that something the Arsenal game?" Her eyes lifted, a thin brow arching.

"No idea what you're talking about—"

"Harry…"

"Thanks again, 'Mione! You're the best." He rushed out of her office, letting the door swing shut behind him with a resounding bang as he made his great escape.

Hermione shook her head as she laughed, leaning forward to let her face fall into her palms. She was fairly certain if her work wasn't going to be the end of her—her friendship with Harry Potter just might.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

So, I think it's safe to say American!Hermione likes cheese... and British accents. /shrug

until next time xx

apparently FFN doesn't like using companies real names... so there you have PaidPal. I'm sure you can figure out where they work. ;)


	4. Chapter 4

Warning: Chapter is NSFW

* * *

"You're on time."

"Oh, didn't I tell you? Punctuality is my superpower." Hermione pressed the lock button on her keyfob, the flash of her headlights elongating her silhouette against the ground of the parking garage. After tucking her keys into the beaded bag that hung at her hip, she adjusted the strap on her shoulder, crossing the three parking spaces to greet Draco.

The day had finally come. Friday. Her big date. And although this would technically be their first, she didn't have an ounce of nervous energy. She felt like she already knew him—well, knew him as well as she could considering they'd just met.

She'd spent the better part of the week texting him. The constant stream of dialogue distracted her from important meetings at work (hello CashKing acquisition, looking right at you) and made her burn her dinner on more than one occasion. Though, to be fair, Ramen wasn't exactly her favorite anyway.

Most of her evenings were spent talking to him on her phone, just like she used to with all her crushes during her middle school years. The phone's receiver warmed her face and the day's makeup streaked the glass of her iPhone. She laid hidden under the thick comforter, laughing until the early hours of the morning until her eyelids grew too heavy to stay open even a second longer.

They spoke about nothing of consequence—upcoming movies, his plans for his prolonged vacation, and favorite foods. There was something almost magical about the casual rapport they'd built, not to mention the fact that their discussions did not revolve around the stereotypical pre-approved topics that the universe mandated when dating over the age of twenty-five.

No talk of hopes and dreams.

No talk of careers.

No talk of marriage.

And absolutely no talk of kids.

After all, what was the point? There was an expiration date on their romance. Like a small container of that delicious Australian yogurt she loved so much, she could enjoy getting to know him, savoring each delicious little morsel of their time together without having to worry about what it all meant and if she was saying the right thing. At the end of three months Draco would step into that metal bird and take off across the blue yonder to return to his homeland of crumpets, tea, and all things British.

Someone her age should've been bothered by that fact, knowing she had absolute zero chance of a future with the man she was currently going to go on a date with. E_ven if_ she had wanted more than a three-month affair, there was no fucking way she was going to give up her career for something as fleeting as lust. But she found something so utterly relieving about it all.

With no chance of something more, she was able to just enjoy 'living in the moment'—or whatever the fuck all those self-help books on her bookshelf called it.

She could enjoy the attention of a too-handsome man.

Enjoy the way his accent twisted her stomach into a Gordian Knot of lascivious desires.

Enjoy the sparkle that shone in his eye as he raked his gaze across her outfit with a primal sort of assessment that left her skin burning in its wake.

She wore her nicest pair of jeans. Dark wash and form-fitting, she knew they hugged her curves perfectly and were just stretchy enough to have the added bonus of not making her feel like a sausage stuffed into its casing. Paired with a cream coloured v-neck, a burgundy moto jacket, and a pair of peep-toe booties, she knew she looked casual, despite the fact that she'd literally spent hours waffling over the choices in her closet.

Thankfully, a quick Facetime session with Ginny, and about four outfit changes later, she had finally decided. And if the small smirk that pulled up the corner of Draco's lips was any indication, she'd made the right choice.

"That's probably the lamest superpower I've ever heard of." Draco was leaning on the back of his rental, a black BMW SUV. She knew absolute dick about cars, but the blue and white emblem embossed on the back was hard to ignore. "But, a rather practical one, I must admit."

Hermione lifted her shoulders, her hands sliding into her back pockets as she approached. "It does come in handy."

Her eyes flickered across his outfit, taking in his own date-night casual attire. Nice jeans (Hudson, again. Maybe a favoured brand?), a crisp black button-down, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing a purple paisley print on the inside cuff. Thankfully, not sneakers this time, just a pair of boots. He looked sleek, clean, _stylish._

She couldn't help but wonder if he'd spent just as much time as she did deciding on his outfit, or if, perhaps, he didn't need to labor to appear casual like she did.

"You look nice." Pushing off the SUV, Draco began towards her, rapidly closing the small distance. Once close enough, his hand found her waist, guiding her close with a gentle pull before bending low to press a chaste kiss against her cheek.

Was it a British thing? Or European?

She couldn't remember.

Not when she could feel the heat of his body brush against hers. Not with his long fingers curled around her hip. Not when he smelt as sinfully delicious as he did. She couldn't pinpoint the cologne, but it was almost as if someone had bottled all her favorite things in the world and combined them into a singular smell.

Spicy. Smoky. Warmth.

It reminded her of a slow-burning campfire, tickling her nose, leaving her begging to bury her face in his chest so the scent could envelop her.

Her right hand moved to his arm, steadying herself as she leaned up to return the gesture, her lips brushing gently across the high of his cheek. "You don't look so bad yourself, Mister."

She could hear his sharp inhale at the gentle whisper, his fingers flexing against her hip, pulling her ever so slightly closer. It would be so easy to give in to this spark between them. To turn her head and initiate a kiss she was sure neither of them would stop. To say 'fuck it' to their date, and climb in the back of his luxury rental, and christen it the good old fashioned way.

But, despite her libido, which clearly thought she was seventeen as opposed to thirty, Hermione forced reason back to the forefront of her brain and took a step back, putting some much needed space between them as her smile fell into place. "You ready?"

"For?"

"The best night of your life." Cocky? Absolutely. Presumptuous? One hundred percent. But as she watched his eyes sparkle with amusement, that smirk curling into that charming grin she'd only caught glimpses of up until now, she was willing to make herself appear a little bit foolish.

"That's quite a claim." Draco laughed, his hand lifting to smooth back some fallen strands of his platinum hair, forcing it back into submission with the rest of his perfectly quaffed locks. "Especially considering the night you are attempting to dethrone."

"Oh, there is no attempt here. I _know_ this will surpass it." Hermione took another step back from him as she fished her iPhone from the front pocket of her jeans. Pressing her thumb against the side button, she brought it to life and quickly punched in her passcode to fire off her obligatory message in the Potters' group chat. "Let me send a quick note to my friends and we can head off."

**Car is parked in the PaidPal parking garage—east campus. We are going to Smuggler's Cove. Phone is fully charged.**

_Be safe! Have fun. Use a rubber! xx_

For the record, I still don't like this. Can I at least see a picture of him?

**No. No picture.**

"You're close with them, aren't you?" The soft chirp of the BMW unlocking echoed around them and, surprisingly, Draco began to move towards the passenger door.

Hermione paused, her thumbs hovering over her screen as she watched through thick lashes, her brow setting in a small sign of confusion. She didn't necessarily mind driving, but this was clearly a rental and she doubted very much the coverage would pass to her—besides, driving anything other than a compact car in downtown San Francisco wasn't really her forte. "Yeah, they're family—um, what are you doing?"

Draco glanced over his shoulder as he opened the passenger door, stepping back from it with his brow cocked. "Getting your door. Is that alright?"

"Oh… _oh_." A light crimson spread across her cheeks. Right, because men did that sort of thing on dates. Well, _some_ men did. The type she usually found herself on the opposite side of a dining table from definitely didn't. She was lucky if they split the fucking tab, or in some cases, had a _real_ job. "Yeah, of course. Sorry!"

She moved quickly towards the opened door, smiling sheepishly at him as she slid across the expensive leather to claim the passenger seat. The car still smelled new. Clean and chemically combined with the well oiled leather, it held the very distinct fragrance of luxury.

She looked around, phone vibrating in her hand with incoming messages as she inspected the interior. The typical stickers that adorned rental cars were missing: no air bag warning, no alarm system tracking bullshit, and no 'No Smoking' sticker on the dash.

Buckling her belt, Hermione crossed her legs at the ankle, settling back into the plush seat as she took a quick glance at her phone.

Physical description? In case I need to report you missing to the police?

_I wouldn't say no to a physical description… very detailed… be as specific as possible. ::winking emojii:: xx_

...Seriously Ginn?

_What? It's all for safety sake… xx_

You do know we're married, right? You're pregnant with my child.

_No shite? Wow. I just thought I was getting fat. xx_

_Speaking of which… Can you bring me a pint of chubby hubby upstairs? I don't want to waddle down there and Teddy has his headphones on. xx _

Lazy arse.

_Love you too, darling. xx_

**You two are disgusting. Go be a cute couple outside of our group chat.**

_So is that a no on the physical description? xx_

**He's handsome, smart and…**

**Hopefully has a massive cock. That's all you need to know.**

::vomit emojii::

Please. God. No.

_That's my girl! xx_

Please be safe, 'Mione.

**I will. **

_Don't do anything I wouldn't do. xx_

That's not a very long list, love.

_Fuck off. xx _

**::laughing crying emojii:: I'll text you once I'm home. **

**And 'safe'.**

Thank you. Love you.

_Yes, yes. We love you. Now go shag your mystery man. xx_

**Love you both. Kiss Teddy for me. **

Just as she slipped her phone back in her purse, the driver's side opened and Draco slipped inside. "How long have you known them?" The question sounded subtle as it rolled off his tongue, as if he wasn't fishing to find out how deep the ties of her friendship with the Potters ran.

But she knew better.

Of course she knew better.

Were she in his position, she'd do exactly the same.

They'd only briefly discussed the fact that she was best friends with Harry, though his name came up more often than not. 'Lunch with Harry.' 'Meeting with Harry for coffee.' 'Going to Harry's to chat with Ginny.' It was painfully obvious to everyone with two eyes and a pulse that her relationship with the Potters went beyond a typical adult friendship.

"I met Harry about three… almost four years ago. He was my first hiring recommendation to the Executive Team and… I think I kind of got attached." That was one way to put it, and while not one hundred percent accurate, it wasn't a misrepresentation of the truth. Her friendship was Harry wasn't one sided, his own attachment to her was no less than her own to him, but sometimes the self doubt that plagued her love life seeped into her friendships and made her wonder why Harry and Ginny kept her around.

After all, she was nothing special.

The purr of the engine rumbled and the dashboard illuminated. Shifting in her seat, she let her elbow fall against the center console. "I met Ginny a couple months after pestering Harry into a friendship—I'm fairly certain she thought I was interested in Harry for the first couple months, but uh… We managed to work through that quickly."

Draco maneuvered the SUV from the spot with a sense of comfort that felt far too familiar for a rental. She watched his fingers adjust the gauges, turning down the radio and up the air conditioning as he drove out of the parking garage. "And did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Have a thing for Harry?"

Hermione snorted. Her brows rose as she shot Draco a side-long glance. "No. Absolutely not. _Never._" She didn't mean for it to come out as a laugh. Harry was handsome, and a good friend but… He was Harry! There was never a moment in any world where their friendship would have ever crossed that line. _Ever._ "He's not exactly my type."

The car rolled to a stop, his fingers drumming along the steering wheel to the pop tune that played softly on the radio. She could feel unspoken questions lingering between them and his desire to dive past the fun loving wall she had so carefully erected. The very same one she was still desperate to keep in place.

This was fun because it wasn't forever.

This was fun because she wasn't risking getting her heart broken.

This was fun because it was casual, light, and surface level.

This was just two woefully single people having a good time.

"What is your type then? Since your platonic male life partner evidently isn't it."

She felt his eyes on her, tingling her skin, prickling the hairs on the back of her neck.

She turned to face him, letting her chin rest in her upturned palm as a slow smile pulled up the corners of her mouth. "Tall, handsome, a bit snarky with a good sense of humor. Someone smart, but not snobby about it…" Her voice trailed off, index finger tapping against her jawline as her eyes drifted up in thought. "Maybe someone a little like you, but… nicer?"

His laughter swelled, warming even the depths of her bones, causing her smile to widen so much she was certain he could see her molars. "Nicer? I thought you enjoyed my sharply lined words and wit?"

"Oh, I do! But, you know what they say."

"No, I don't. Please, enlighten me as to what the collective '_they'_ say."

"The perfect man doesn't exist." She thought she'd gotten close before. Cormac, Michael, and there was even that _very_ short lived relationship with Lavender, but nothing ever lasted. She'd always found a fault—which is probably why she was still single at thirty. Her clinical neurosis obviously had _nothing _to do with it.

"Hrmm… Well, you'll just have to settle for me then, won't you?" Draco lifted his brows in a quick wag, lips pulling to the corner in his mouth in what she was beginning to realise was his trademark smirk.

"Suppose I might."

* * *

Okay. So, Draco was loaded.

The signs were there, like bright neon that clung to the sides of the buildings on Embarcadero. She wasn't blinded by them. After all, she lived in the heart of Silicon Valley, practically every asshole had a black AmEx.

But he was clearly from heartier stock than the new money assholes that filled this part of California.

He didn't flaunt it or rub it in her face.

His clothing was nice, but not flashy.

He didn't even once mention his wealth through the course of the night, but he didn't need to for her to know.

Not when he took her to the fucking Ritz-Carlton to 'sober up.' Not when he booked a room—a fucking suite—so they could have a private conversation instead of whispering to one another at the hotel bar.

A low whistle left her painted lips, heels dropping off her hooked finger onto the carpeted floor as she moved across the room to the large window that sat at the back. It offered a picturesque view of the Transamerica Pyramid. "This is… Uh… Draco, you didn't have to—"

"It's not a big deal. Truth be told, this is slightly selfish on my part." He was already rolling up his sleeves, claiming the center cushion on the grey and teal couch. "I'm sick of only hearing half of what you say and my feet are killing me."

Her hands pressed against the window, fingertips brushing the icy glass. "Ahh yes, those pesky dress shoes. Notoriously murderous to men's feet." She shot him a quick glance over her shoulder, laughter lining her words. He was already unlacing his boots, bent at the waist. Blond fringe from his quaff hung loose across his forehead.

"I'm so glad you're sympathetic towards our plight. No one ever recognizes the sacrifices men make for the sake of beauty." Kicking off his shoes under the glass coffee table, Draco leaned back on the couch, grey eyes shimmering at her across the room as she turned to lean against the window, letting the cooled glass press against her spine.

He really was handsome—effortlessly so. She'd spent the better part of their evening trying to ignore the way everyone's eyes lingered on him as they claimed a space in the tiny bar or walked down the road. She could hear hushed whispers accompanying the prolonged glances that he seemed to ignore, as if accustomed to being the center of attention. It was something Hermione had never experienced—_ever_.

It wasn't that she was hideous. She didn't have an oversized nose or too sharp features. No, Hermione was about as ordinary as they came. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Tanned skin. She possessed the ability to blend into a crowd in a way that would make most CIA operatives envious. She was perfectly unremarkable.

It was this same plainness that might explain her personality, something she'd often gotten in trouble for growing up. She was too loud, too opinionated, too passionate, or simply _too much._

Which was ironic, considering it was her stunning wit that evidently forged her friendship with the Potters and caught the attention of not one but _two _men completely out of her league.

"I do my part to recognize the hardships your sex endures." Her fingers drummed on the ledge, head cocked to the side as she silently admired him. She didn't need to verbalize how handsome he was, he was obviously already well-aware of his presence, but it was almost impossible for her to ignore the funny things his mere proximity did to her stomach.

Well, it was either that or the three cocktails she'd sipped at The Smuggler's Cove. Who knew? Certainly not her.

"As you should." He lifted one arm to drape across the back of the couch, brushing along the embroidered paisley pattern as his other hand moved to pat the cushion next to him. "You going to spend the entire evening across the room?"

"Possibly. The view is pretty spectacular." Her hand lifted, gesturing towards him, before jutting her thumb over her shoulder. "And… it's safer from a distance."

Draco hummed in amusement, slowly uncrossing his legs, widening his seat. "I won't bite."

"Oh, it's not you I'm worried about." Pushing off the ledge, she began her slow and methodical trek across the room. She let her fingers trail across the back of the couch, dangerously close to his hand, as she moved behind him. "I'm notorious for rushing into things. Running headfirst into stupid decisions is kind of my signature move."

"And punctuality." Draco tilted his head back, tracking her like a predator would its prey. She could feel the hunger in his eyes that she'd ignored all night. It was easy to say it was something else—_anything _else—when in a crowded room. But in the suite, it was simply impossible to deny the darkening of his eyes and the way his tongue danced across his lips when her hips swayed. "What if I promise to be good? To keep my hands to myself?"

His index finger brushed against the side of her hand, and if the world were built on an electrical circuit, his touch would have sparked shockwaves. She gulped, her breath hesitating in her throat as she came to a standstill behind him.

She should put distance between them.

She should sit across the room. Sober up. Get her wits about her.

She should pull away and turn him down gently. She didn't need the added complication of sleeping with _another_ gorgeous British man.

But her will had always been weak, and who was she kidding? She wasn't a fucking lady. She held no sense of propriety. If she wanted to fuck him in this expensive hotel suite overlooking the city, then why not?

She didn't need to know his last name or random facts about his childhood to enjoy fucking him stupid on that digustingly posh couch. And the oversized, ornate bed. And maybe the shower, too.

After all, he did have the room for an entire night—it would be a shame to waste it.

"Fuck it." Her hips bit against the back of the couch as she leaned over, her right hand finding his jaw. Tilting his head back, their lips found each other.

She always hated first kisses. Movies depicted them so romantically. That leg popping nonsense from _The Princess Diaries_. The picturesque setting on the bow of an ocean liner doomed to find the bottom of the ocean in _Titanic_. And she couldn't even begin to explain that upside down bullshit in the first _Spider-Man_.

Reality was far different from the movies. Teeth clashed, someone _always_ used too much tongue, not to mention, she never knew what to do with her fucking hands—should she hold his jaw, should she touch his shoulders?

And while Draco had been literally picture perfect all night, it seemed even the most handsome of men could fall victim to first kiss blunders.

"Bloody hell." Draco pulled back, his voice just above a whisper. His gray eyes sought her own as an almost apologetic blush crept across the high of his cheeks. His hand rose, fingertips dabbing lightly against his bottom lip which had taken the brunt of their clash.

"Sorry! I didn't—"

His gaze found hers and, immediately, the apology that already hung in the air between them slipped from her mind as if it had never been there in the first place. Her hands, which had fallen to her sides smoothed the hem of her shirt against her abdomen, silently praying he couldn't see how her jeans cut into the softness that lined her middle.

"No… I didn't… It's just… I swear I'm better than that."

"No, no. It's my fault. I just… kind of went for it."

His eyes flickered between her mouth, down her figure, and back up again, making the circuit three times before the silence became too thick, too palpable, to ignore. His hand curled around her wrist, index finger and thumb overlapping on her pulse point and before she could comprehend what was occurring, he pulled her over the couch until she was sideways in his lap.

She squeaked—actually fucking _squeaked—_at the suddenness of it all. Her arms looped around his neck, fingers pressing into his shoulders to prevent herself from spilling backwards across the furniture as one of his arms moved around her middle.

He was smooth. She could give him that. Charming, of course, but the way he manipulated her body like she weighed nothing, _that _was truly masterful. She couldn't ever remember a time she felt delicate, but when his thumb and index finger gripped her chin, and he tipped her head back as his lips brushed across hers, she felt like she was in a damn romance novel.

Like he was Darcy and she the painfully outspoken Elizabeth. He made her feel feminine, beautiful in ways she never thought possible. He made her forget that she was likely making his legs go numb, and made the self-consciousness that accompanied first romantic encounters slip into the void.

He took control, kissing her slowly, gently sweeping his tongue past her lips to brush against her own like a gentle caress—like he wanted to savor every second of their embrace.

Her fingers flexed, aching to dive into his artfully styled tresses, but afraid of doing something that might deter him from his current course.

His fingers slipped off her chin, just the tips dancing across her neck. She could feel the slight grazing of his nails as he moved them over the hollow of her throat and lower… lower… lower until they met the low dip of her shirt in the very center of her chest.

His lips left hers slowly, as if the decision to end their kiss was not one he made lightly, and he brushed the tip of his nose against hers, pressing their foreheads together. "Hermione… I… We..."

Her chest heaved as if she'd just run a marathon, heart pounding like a jackhammer on a city sidewalk, frantically breaking apart her rationale. Her mind felt like mush, trying to catch up to speed with her body's impulses.

"You should show me the rest of the suite." The words tumbled from her lips with a large gasp of air that escaped her lungs. She cleared her throat, slowly pulling back to look down at him.

His adam's apple bobbed, running the length of his lean throat, bouncing like a buoy in the bay. She could see the possibilities flicker behind his eyes, unspoken promises of what might await them beyond the double doors mere feet away. That was, of course, if they made it off this fucking couch.

"The rest… of the suite."

Hermione cleared her throat with a quick nod. "Yeah... You know… the bathroom… the _bedroom_." Slipping off his lap, she brushed her hands across her hips mechanically, trying to pull her head from the clouds as she backed away.

The analog clock that hung on the wall ticked. Loud and ominous, it served as a painful reminder of how long he just sat there, staring at her, grey eyes wide like a puppy whose master made the promise of endless treats and belly rubs if he just listened.

"So…" Her shoulders lifted, teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she tilted her head to the side, taking another step back from him.

"Right. I'll just… Uh…" Draco moved quickly, pushing up off the couch. His hands ran over his face as he sucked in a deep breath, as if trying to fuel his brain with much needed oxygen. He edged around the coffee table, and once within reach, his hand found hers, fingers lacing together as he began to guide her across the room with a gentle tug. "The bathroom is just through here. Nothing fancy. A toilet. A sink. A shower. Truthfully, nothing to look at unless you're curious about the thread count in their towels—which I can report is abysmal for a five star hotel."

"How dare they." Her feet carried her after him, laughter tickling her throat as her eyes tracked his hands when he gestured to a single door opposite the double. "We clearly need to Yelp! them."

"Already taken care of. Four star rating."

"Four stars for bad towels—pfft. Softie."

Draco laughed, one of those low, throaty, melodic kind of laughs that shot a jolt of desire coursing through her veins. Not that any assistance was needed in _that_ department, just looking at him was enough to kick start her libido into hyperdrive.

"You have no idea." Pushing open one side of the double doors, Draco pulled her into the bedroom. It was dark, but the light pollution from the cityscape cast a neon glow over the gigantic bed in the middle of the room.

Hotel chains could be judged by how many pillows they put on their beds.

Two? Enjoy the complimentary bed bugs.

Four? They're trying, but not too hard.

Hermione hadn't personally stayed at a hotel where more than four was standard, but from where she stood, just at the threshold of the bedroom, she could count no less than eight. Giant. Fluffy. New… ish.

The ever present pre-teen inside her wanted to run across the room and vault onto the bed like a giant starfish. She wanted to wrap herself in the down comforter and tell Draco that sex could wait because she wanted to bask in the comfort of the swanky suite in the San Francisco Ritz Carlton.

But when he turned and tugged her forward, guiding her body into his until her front pressed firmly against his own, she found that pesky thirty-year-old was really… _really_ excited about the idea of undressing the man before her.

He didn't ask permission. Not that he needed to, she was more than willing.

Without hesitation, his lips found hers once more, this time with a familiarity, as if he'd figured out precisely what she liked during their first kiss.

He guided her backwards slowly, taking careful steps. She appreciated the caution because god only knew he was stealing her ability to function properly each time his tongue swept against hers.

One moment she was standing before him, and the next she was on the middle of the bed, his body hovering over hers. The delicious weight of his presence pressed the air from her lungs, making it impossible to take even a single breath when his mouth began to pepper kisses across the exposed skin on her throat and chest.

His hands were everywhere, ghosting over her curves through her clothing, petting her curls across the bedspread, and finally, _finally _peeling her shirt off her body until she lay in just her bra and jeans.

Her hands tugged at his button down, pulling on the expensive material until he followed her lead and divested himself of it with a quick tug over his head. The buttons that lined his shirt strained, and she couldn't help but laugh when two broke free, landing against her stomach.

"Here—let me help." Slipping her hands in the folds of the shirt, she quickly unthreaded the top two buttons and eased it up and off.

His smile was wide, charming even. His cheeks were indented with just the hint of dimples and she had to physically fight back the urge to run a fingertip over them. Instead, she leaned up, looping one arm loosely around his neck to guide his mouth back to hers.

Their dance was slow, each taking their time with removing the other's clothing until she was in only her underwear and Draco wore just a pair of cream colored boxers-briefs. Versace. Of course, someone like him couldn't wear a fucking normal brand. Hers didn't match_—dammit—_but at least the navy thong and nude bra didn't clash too harshly.

His eyes raked over her body, taking in the dips and curves, the overt femininity of her figure, as well as the parts of her she wished would forever disappear. A large patch of mottled skin on her left side from an accident with candle wax as a child. A thin, iridescent stripe on her neck from a car wreck as a teen. Four circular puncture wounds on her right thigh from a dog bite. The scars were permanent reminders of some of her life's misfortunes, and combined with the self-perceived ugliness of the stretch marks that highlighted her thighs, hips, stomach, and breasts… Well, to say she was thankful that the lights were off and he could only see glimpses of how ruined her body was, was an understatement.

Her hand moved from his shoulder, dropping to cover her stomach, lips pressing together as she shifted under his gaze, nervous energy fluttering to the surface of her consciousness.

He was taking too long.

He was staring too much.

He'd see her flaws and find her hideous.

He'd leave and say it was all a mistake.

He'd—

"You're so beautiful."

_Beautiful?_

He said the word like he meant it. Like she was exactly that. Like she wasn't woefully imperfect, and fuck… She _wanted_ to believe him. For the first time in a long while, she wanted to feel as beautiful as he thought she was.

"Thank you?" Crimson crept across her cheeks as she fought back the nervous laugh trapped in the base of her throat.

His fingertips trailed up her side, over the stubbled patch of hair on her knee she'd missed during her morning shave, over the bite marks, over her hip, and tickling her side until he fingered the band of her bra. "I mean it, you know?" His eyes followed his fingertips as he worked around her rib cage, slowly walking to the centre of her chest where the little golden clasp held the cups of her bra together. "I thought you were stunning in that salon."

"With my messy bun and joggers?"

"Especially with your messy bun and joggers." His lips pulled up at the memory, eyes flashing as he held her gaze. "You looked so relaxed. So carefree. And God, your smile. Your smile is absolutely breathtaking." As if to punctuate his point, the hand playing with the clasp of her bra abandoned its post, tracing the swell of her lower lip as he spoke.

Hermione could take a lot. She could handle being stood up. She could manage being spoken down to. She could even deal with a good dressing down from a stranger, but this? This romantic, compliment-filled caress he was currently doing was _too_ fucking much.

It said too much.

It _meant _too much.

This was supposed to be fun. Fucking a hot blond that was clearly out of her league (in looks and social status, evidentally) for three months while she navigated the complexities of dating post-thirty while keeping her side-piece on lock.

It wasn't supposed to make her heart swell and birth those pesky butterflies low in her belly.

And it certainly wasn't supposed to make her see him as anything _other_ than something casual.

"Do you have a condom?" In true Hermione Granger fashion, she changed the subject. She had to. She needed the barriers: walls of protection to shield her heart and soul from getting hurt. She needed rules and guidelines and structure. She _needed_ boundaries.

Falling for Draco crossed a boundary. It would never end well, and therefore, she wasn't going to allow it to happen. Not now. _Not ever. _

"We don't have to… We can just—"

"I want to." Hermione lifted her hand from her stomach, fingers slipping underneath the clasp of her bra. With an expert twist, the cups covering her breasts fell loose. Shifting her shoulders, the straps slipped down her arms, and she leaned up, arching off the bed as she pulled the garment from under her and let it slip off the side of the king-sized bed. "So, condom?"

His eyes stayed on her chest, hungry, dark, and wide. When his tongue swept over his perfectly pouty lips, she knew she'd played her hand well. She had him right where she wanted, back on course, and far, _far_ away from romance.

"In my wallet," he rasped, not yet lifting his eyes.

Hermione pushed herself up on her elbows, the cascade of curls tickling her shoulder blades as she began to work her way back across the bed until she felt the mountainous stack of pillows hit her elbows. "You should get it."

Draco nodded, gulping thickly as he watched her shimmy out of her thong. It was only when she flung it across the bed at him that he finally moved. His footfalls were loud, and if someone's pace were any indication of their eagerness, she would have pegged Draco for enthusi-fucking-astic.

He snatched his pants off the floor, the soft tinkle of his belt jostling marked the silence as he fumbled for his wallet. She let out a small laugh when he unceremoniously dropped it all back on the floor.

Held betwixt his fingers, the small foiled square shimmered in the light. Their savior for the evening. She was on the pill like any sensible thirty something year old—she did _not_ wish to procreate anytime soon—but she'd only known Draco for a week! Besides, for as 'single' as she was, she was already having unprotected sex with one man—it hardly felt right to introduce a second into that dangerous lifestyle.

He crawled back up the bed with ease, arms and legs framing her until he hovered above her on all fours.

Hermione took the condom, carefully opening the foil wrapper, biting the corner with her front teeth in a true show of her lady-like charm, before she dropped her hands between their bodies. The opened wrapper rested on her stomach as she moved to push down his boxers-briefs.

She couldn't see much, with the dim lighting and shadow from his body over hers, but she could certainly _feel_ him. She gulped—_audibly_ gulped—when her fingers wrapped around his length, secretly gauging his size under the pretense of making sure he was prepared to don the contraceptive.

Had she been a smarter, wiser, or a more collected woman, she might have hid her excitement, but Hermione was absolutely, positively, none of those things—even less so when a hot, naked blond was between her thighs. "_Holy fucking shit_."

"No kidding." His hips pushed forward, and she heard the primal grumble of a groan as he rocked into her hand. His fingers sunk into the pillow beside her head and she looked up just in time for him to capture her lips in a searing kiss.

He didn't need flowery words or grand romantic gestures. He didn't need fancy hotel rooms. He didn't need to pay for all her drinks at the bar. All Draco needed to do was kiss her just like that—like she was the air he needed to breathe, like nothing in the world mattered but this moment, like she was as fucking perfect as he said—and she would forever be putty in hands.

Plucking the condom from its wrapper, she made quick work of sliding it down his rigid length (while trying not to be too bothered by the sticky lubrication), and once firmly in place, her hands moved to rest against his chest. Raising her thighs, her knees settled around the narrow of his waist, resting lightly against her hips, allowing him to take the lead from her.

She was far from out of practice, but the anticipation that built low in her belly made her limbs quiver when she felt the head of his cock press against her cunt, sliding across her slick before notching at her entrance.

His lips parted from hers and his forehead rested gently against her own. He held himself up on his right arm, elbow sunk into the mattress beside her shoulder, while his left hand curled around her hip, thumb stroking her skin.

He moved slowly, much slower than she would have preferred, but there was something so delicious about the pace he was setting. He wanted to take his time with her, relish in their embrace, enjoy every second he could spend coaxing them each towards oblivion, and fuck if it didn't feel utterly perfect.

Her body stretched to accommodate him as she tilted her hips up to meet his agonizingly slow thrust. Once he was fully seated inside her, she felt him let out a breath she didn't know he'd been holding.

Her hands moved over his shoulders, sliding across the wide planes of his back before she curled her arms around his. Her elbows rested on his shoulders, hands sinking into the blond hair on the back of his head, clinging to him. Each push and pull between their bodies brought forth a wave of euphoria unlike any she'd experienced before.

Sex had always been hurried. Frantic. Not a marathon, but a sprint, each participant trying to get to the finish line. Even with Theo, which had been the _most_ uncomplicated sex she'd had to date, it wasn't like this.

So slow.

So delicious.

So… _fulfilling._

Like an aged bourbon, she wanted the warmth he brought forth to envelop her, to consume her until no part of her remained except for the mind-numbing bliss he was creating.

His name was whispered into the night, quivering and fraught with need. Her hips rose to meet his, gyrating, churning, seeking to drive him farther inside to reach new depths. And just when she thought she might never find her end, thought he was going to fuck her into insanity at a lesiurely pace, his hand moved from her hip inward… inward... inward until his fingers found where their bodies joined.

"Yes, right there." Her head tipped back on the pillow, curls ruined and wild as she arched into his fingers, breasts smashing against his chest, pussy spasming around him as her need grew.

His fingers worked quick circles over her clit, expertly manipulating her body as if he'd always known what she needed, but was waiting for permission.

"So close," she whispered, her eyes fluttering beneath her lids as she felt that coil of tension draw tight in her belly. Closer and closer he drew her, until she felt as taught as a freshly strung harpist string. All she needed was one final pluck and she'd—

"Fuck, Hermione… I'm coming."

His thrusts faltered, growing erratic, detouring from the pace he'd set. She could feel his cock swell inside her, twitching as he found his end, but his fingers—oh, those wicked, devious little fingers never stopped moving.

And it was the combination of those fingers, and the primal sound of her name on his lips, spoken like a prayer into the night, that finally pushed her over.

She didn't scream or shout. She didn't cry out or moan wantonly.

Her thighs did tighten around his hips and her nails scratched at his scalp as she whispered his name over and over and over again. She held him close as she rode the wave of her orgasm, using him to guide her into bliss, but her hips acted of their own accord, rocking into his until the very act of keeping her limbs aloft felt cumbersome.

Sinking back on the mattress, she let her arms fall beside her head as her chest heaved with each new breath. Her eyes felt heavy, exhausted, and she didn't dare open them when she felt him roll onto the mattress beside her.

Cold, wet, sticky, his cock pressed into her hip. She knew they should clean up, but she couldn't quite find it in herself to care when she felt his arms slip around her waist, his lips moving worshipfully across her shoulders.

They laid together for minutes, just the soft ticking from the clock in the sitting room and the ambient noise of the city acting as their soundtrack. It wasn't until she'd regained her breath that she finally opened her eyes to look over at him.

Her hand had found its way into his hair, fingers sliding through his impossibly soft locks, stroking his scalp like she'd often done with Teddy at the end of their days together. His eyes were open, peering at her through the darkness. He was smiling at her. "We should stay… I can order room service if you'd like. Even take you to a proper meal in the morning."

Red flags.

She should've seen red flags. Big. Massive. Angry red flags.

This was supposed to be fun! Casual. Nothing more than a three month fling.

But as she laid in the now ruined bed, the softness of the quality thread count, down comforter, and warmth from his body beside hers made it hard to _want_ to leave.

"Hmmm… I mean… it would be a waste to not properly use this hotel room, right?" She wasn't sure who she was trying to convince, but it seemed to work either way. She watched his eyes come alive, actually fucking sparkle like brilliant little diamonds in the darkness of the room, and she felt her breath catch in her lungs.

"Absolutely. You still have yet to see the shower. It would be positively shameful if I didn't introduce you to it properly." His fingers ran down her leg, stroking against the soft side of her thigh.

"That actually sounds amazing." Hermione bit her bottom lip, eyebrows lifting as she fought back a small laugh. "Say… Do you think you can order condoms through room service?"

"Eh… Not sure about that one, but I do believe you Americans have something called Postmates and their advertisements said I could order _anything_ from them." Draco was already rolling away from her, moving across the room to sort through his discarded clothing.

Pushing up onto her elbows, she laughed as he fumbled with his pants to find his iPhone before disappearing into the bathroom to, she assumed, dispose of the condom. "Hey! If you're ordering from them, add on a bag of Funyuns… and Peanut M&M's!"

"Fun-what?" His head poked out of the bathroom, a manicured brow cocked in her direction.

"Oh man… you've got a lot to learn, Redcoat."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Hermione fucks on a first date /hair pump/.

Anyways, now that that's done and over with ;P, thank you guys for the recs, kudos, and reviews. I am beyond tickled you're enjoying this fic!

Huge massive sparkly thank you to dreamsofdramione. She is seriously a fucking monster and helps whip my words into shape!

LumosLyra & LissaDean have signed on as alpha-extordinaires and are helping me catch all my glaring *cough cough* painfully obvious *cough cough* flaws, lot in the characterizations of this cast of characters.

Here is my obligatory shameless self promotion: I am on tumblr ms-merlinblack, and facebook msmerlin eff. Find me, Friend me, Follow me. I also run a Triad/Multi facebook group for the HP fandom, look us up to see all the fun things we do: Restricted Section: Multi & Triad.

until next time. xx


	5. Chapter 5

Warning: This Chapter is NSFW!

* * *

"What do you mean you '_stayed the night_?'"

Hermione paused, currently bent over Ginny and Harry's bathroom counter, leaning closer to the mirror to properly apply some borrowed eyeliner across her lower lid, the sharpened pencil poised just over her skin. "Well, technically speaking, it means I slept in a bed beside him. Though, to be fair, we didn't actually sleep very much."

"'Mione… _Hermione_… I… but you… Jesus Christ, you hardly know this man!" Harry stood in the doorway, his hands wringing like he was her father as opposed to best friend. She loved Harry, endlessly, but his almost paternal worry was sometimes, just sometimes, _too much._

It came from a place of love. She knew that. He'd caught the aftermath of her less than smooth break up with Michael and, since then, seemed keen on protecting her heart on her behalf.

"Oh, I didn't tell you about the background check I ran on him?" Swiping the kohl along her lower lid, she did her best to refrain from rolling her eyes, lest she ruin the makeup she was hastily applying.

"You did?"

"Of course I fucking didn't, Harry. It was a date! A _first _date at that! I was just… going with the flow, carpe diem or whatever. I didn't intend on sleeping with him, but the hotel was nice—really fucking nice—and… Well, one thing led to another and the rest is history." Snapping the gold cap back on the pencil, she leaned back from the mirror, assessing her application from afar. "Huh, this stuff is nice. Yves Saint Lauren... Do you know how much Ginny spends on this?"

"Fifty bucks?"

"Fifty?!" Hermione eyed the pencil skeptically before she dropped it back into her far too organized makeup drawer, purposefully making sure it ended up in a place other than where she'd pulled it from. "Too rich for my blood."

"I don't bloody well know. I don't frequent the Nordstrom makeup counter. Shocking, I know."

"Truly."

"_Anyways_, can we please get back on topic?"

"Oh, right, of course." Her fingers were in her curls, primping the mess into a more acceptable state. She'd taken a shower this morning with Draco, which had turned into a near religious experience instead of an opportunity to clean each other up (to say she'd never look at shower heads the same way again was an understatement). Her curls had dried naturally due to the lack of product. It wasn't her intention, but with Ginny's limited supply of hair products, and what she could scrounge up from the trunk of her MINI, she was hoping to make it through brunch without looking like she'd stuck her finger in an electrical socket. "Which topic was that again? How I'm amazing and brought not one, not two, but _three _pitchers or orange juice, or how you told me to show up a full two hours early to your fucking brunch?"

"I wouldn't have to lie to you if you'd show up on time, you know." Harry crossed his arms, the hint of the red and black tattoo ink on his forearms peeking out from beneath his henley. "But neither of those. I am referring to the topic of you shagging a complete stranger on your first date."

"Harry, you've known me for almost four years. Does this _really_ surprise you?" Spinning around, she let her hands fall behind her to the quartz countertop, head tilting to the side as she leaned back, crossing her legs at her ankles.

He opened and closed his mouth not once, twice, or three times, but five. Five fucking instances, he'd thought of something to say but thought better, and while it wasn't perfect, Hermione considered that to be tremendous personal growth on his part.

She lifted her hand to silence him before he could spew some nonsense about being 'concerned for her' or wanting to make sure she wasn't 'acting foolish.' Newsflash: She was.. She didn't need verbal reminders of his love for her. She saw it in his actions, in the way he'd message her just to check in when she went radio silent. Not to mention the way he brought her lunch without asking and helped her with odd jobs around her apartment without giving her too much grief.

Her Payless flats slapped loudly against the tile as she crossed the bathroom to him and she took his hand, holding it gently between both of hers. "Harry, I appreciate your concern. I do—really." She held his gaze, thumb stroking gently over the top of his palm. "But I can make these choices on my own. I'm not asking you to like them, but you do need to be supportive of them." That wasn't too much to ask, was it? Surely not. "Because if you don't, I might have to murder you and take your place as your unborn baby's father and god only knows I'd make Ginny way happier than you could—even without a cock."

His lips lifted despite the obvious war that waged within his heart and he slipped his hand from between hers to cradle the side of her face, the rough pad of his thumb stroking across the high of her cheek bone. Emerald eyes, so big and beautiful and vibrant, poured into hers, speaking his silent concerns, reminding her that despite having been alone for almost half her life, she didn't have to be anymore.

He was there for her.

He'd always be there for her.

He was family.

With a heavy sigh, Harry let their gaze break, his eyes drifting shut as he shook his head ever so slightly before guiding her into his arms and pressing his lips against her forehead. His fingers slipped into her curls, holding her close as he looped his other arm over her shoulders. "Just be safe, okay?" The words were murmured against her skin, his lips not yet leaving her.

Her heart swelled, like the fucking Grinch, growing until she felt that tightness in her chest she'd begun to associate with the familial love he and Ginny both provided. "Yes, _Dad_."

"I mean it, 'Mione." He pulled back, guiding her head to tilt back so he could look her in the eye once more. "Be safe—smart, even."

She could feel unwanted tears prick her eyes. The emotional toll of his friendship still felt like too much after all these years. She'd struggled with her own self worth after her parents' passing, constantly striving to better herself as a means of making them proud. She was her own worst critic, she knew this. Hearing his words of concern (and at times, affirmation) felt overwhelming sometimes, especially when she was riddled with self-doubt that whispered in her ear that she was failing a little too often.

"Okay, _okay!_ That's enough of that." Patting his chest, Hermione dislodged herself from his hold. Her hands smoothed the gaudy floral dress she'd found stuffed in the trunk of her car, long forgotten after her Easter vacation in Monterey with the Potters. "You've got guests showing up any minute and I'm fairly certain there is a lot more food to be prepped."

Slipping past Harry, she moved from the bathroom, taking several quick breaths to harness her runaway emotions. Breaking down before his party because she was thankful for his friendship was honestly the absolute last thing she needed.

"Who all did you all invite anyway?" Opening the bedroom door, she paused to take one last look in the standing mirror, making sure the Downy spray she'd pilfered from their laundry room had done its job of smoothing the wrinkles from her dress before she slipped from the room.

"The usual bunch. Dean, Seamus, Eric from accounting, Dorcas, Ella-Mae—"

_Ella-Mae. _

God. If it were possible to dislike her, Hermione would positively, absolutely _hate_ that woman.

It wasn't that she was Theo's baby-mama, though that small fact didn't help. It was that she was absolutely fucking perfect. Looks. Personality. Charm. The whole fucking package! And, she was nice. Not like fake nice, but she was the kind of person who brought over homemade chicken noodle soup when someone was sick because she was genuinely concerned. The kind of nice that bought good gifts for everyone on their birthday instead of a gift card to Starbucks. The kind of nice that Hermione wanted to be, but wasn't capable of.

"—and Eli, of course. Oh I think Theo is coming by, too."

She nearly tripped down the stairs, her hand curling tighter around the railing. "Theo?" Her voice cracked, and if Harry were more astute, he might've picked up on the almost panicked tone coloring her words. "Oh, that's… Uh, weird."

"Yeah. I guess they're doing the kid exchange today and Ginny figured why not invite him." Harry moved beside her when they reached the bottom of the stairs, his arm looping around her shoulders. "Why? Got a thing for him now, too?"

"Ha! Yeah… Right." Hermione did her best to suppress her nervous laughter, opting to cover it with a cough as they moved into the open concept kitchen-living space on the ground floor of their home.

She knew brunch was a bad idea, what with all the people, and the delicious (see: calorie heavy) food that was sure to be present. But seeing Theo after spending the night with Draco seemed like a poor decision—especially because she rarely kept her hands to herself around him.

* * *

"Go fish."

"Bullshit!"

"_Hermione Jean!"_

"What?!" Looking up from the set of Sponge-Bob playing cards, Hermione twisted in the tiny chair that she'd managed to fold herself into fifteen minutes earlier when Teddy and Eli begged (more like demanded) her to join them for a round of Go Fish.

Apparently Eli had never played before, no surprise there, and Teddy was intent on teaching the four-year-old. Eli, however, looked as if he'd rather make fucked up origami out of the playing cards instead of learning how to play the game.

"Language." Ginny widened her eyes as she gestured to the now giggling boys that sat opposite the small folding table. "You're playing with children."

"Yeah? Well, they're also _liars_." Turning around to face the pair once more, she pointed two fingers at her own eyes before turning the gesture on them. "I'm watching you two, you know? I can see when you're not telling the truth and guess what? I've got Santa on speed dial."

"Oh, for fuck's sake." She heard a sigh from somewhere behind her before the distinct stomps of her footfalls approached like some sort of angry redheaded rhinoceros. "That's enough of that. Auntie Minnie needs to come join the grown-ups like a _real _adult."

"But Aunt Giiiinny." Teddy pouted, his little nose wrinkling as his lips pulled downward.

Eli mimicked the older boy, large forest green eyes widening as he looked up. "Auntie Ginny, please?"

Eli Nott. Sweet, innocent, baby angel, Eli. Hermione _almost_ loved him as much as she adored Teddy, especially when he turned those big, beautiful eyes on anyone other than herself. She'd never meant to fall for the little boy. She'd kept him at arm's length for a while, not wanting to complicate her fuck-buddy situation, but… he was so fucking cute.

Dirty blond hair, big green eyes, and dimples, God, how could she not want to just eat him alive when he had _dimples? _So, instead of avoiding the boy, she'd found herself treating him no different than her adopted nephew—showering him with love, affection, gifts, and loads of candy. It wasn't her problem if he had a sugar high after their get-together, that mess was on Ella-Mae and Theo.

Before Ginny could break their hearts any further, Hermione set her cards on the table and snatched her champagne flute, taking a large gulp of the mimosa as she unfolded herself from the chair. "It's alright, boys. We knew this would happen. I'm afraid my time has come to join the ranks." She lifted her hand to her head in a mock salute. "I'll miss you both… Pray for my safety."

"God speed!" Teddy returned the gesture, trying his best to keep his face void of emotion as he watched his Aunt tug Hermione backwards by the crook of her arm.

Eli, who clearly had a lot to learn still, broke into a fit of giggles, his little hands crinkling the cards. "You're _so_ silly, Minnie!"

Hermione stumbled backward, lips turned upwards in a wide grin as Ginny navigated her through the sitting area towards the kitchen where the adults gathered about the kitchen island.

"How many have you had?" Just as the champagne flute touched her lips, Ginny took it before Hermione had a chance to drain it, quizzically cocking her brow.

Too many. That would be the proper answer.

"I don't know… like… two?" Okay, probably double that, but she was allowed to self-medicate! Ginny didn't know the specifics about her arrangement with Theo and was happily married to her best friend, but there was no freaking way she hadn't noticed how utterly delicious he looked today.

Fitted jeans, a simple grey shirt that hugged his chest just right, and a dark brown leather jacket. The outfit itself wasn't exactly something to write home about, but it was everything else. His hair was casually done, looking as if he'd woken up and only run pomade through it with his fingers, and a layer of stubble covered his cheeks.

She couldn't help but wonder what it might feel like against her thighs and her—

"Hermione! I was _just_ telling Theo and Ron about that Thai place you recommended in Sunnyvale. What was the name again?" Ella-Mae was leaning against the island, clutching a cucumber-mint water, her perfectly manicured fingernails tapping lightly against the glass as her blue eyes lifted to the ceiling in thought. "Ramen? No, that's Japanese not Thai… _Shoot_."

"Rama," Theo supplied before Hermione could get the word off her tongue.

Ella-Mae snapped her fingers, head bobbing. "Yes! That's it—wait, have you been there?"

"Yeah, Theo. _Have you_?" Hermione was going to kill him. Murder was still illegal, but she could claim it was the mimosa's fault. No one would hold her accountable for her actions.

"No! No... I just—" He cleared his throat, lifting his Bloody Mary to his lips to take a quick drink. "I've heard things, that's all. This isn't the first time you've raved about it. Remember?"

"Huh… Not really. Oh well, regardless, you really ought to go Ron!" Reaching out she laid a hand on the redhead's arm affectionately. "Maybe Hermione could take you before you head back to Boston?"

Fuck! She was in on it, too. Ginny and Harry had clearly sunk their claws into her and converted her to the 'Ron+Hermione' bandwagon.

"It's Chicago but uh… Sure?" Ron glanced at Hermione over the rim of his mimosa, eyes widening as he lifted the glass to tip back its contents. It was clearly no secret that their friend group was trying to push them together, but they'd gone from subtle to damn near in their faces about it. "Sounds fun."

"Oh! Good!" Ella-Mae clapped, a small squeal of excitement tickling her tone.

"On that note, I'm going to go pee." Hermione forced a smile at E.M. as she began to back away. God, she needed more champagne if she was going to make it through anymore of this awkward mess, but Ginny was clearly intent on cutting her off.

Catching Theo's attention, Hermione rolled her eyes to convey her annoyance with the entire situation before she spun on her heel and made a beeline for the staircase.

Could she use the bathroom on the first floor? Sure. But why on Earth would she do that when she could sneak upstairs and take her sweet ass time. Hopefully it would give Ron a chance to dislodge himself from the overenthusiastic blonde.

She didn't mind E.M.'s happy-go-lucky attitude on most occasions, but it was nearly impossible to refrain from being her usual sarcastic self when she was half a bottle deep.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Hermione reached the top quickly before she moved down the hall, sneaking past Teddy's room where the boys had apparently snuck off to after their card game ended prematurely. She'd almost made it to the bathroom, just a few feet from the door, when she heard the familiar whisper of her name from the other end of the hallway.

Theo was just behind her, that same mischievous glint in his beautiful eyes that made her stomach clench in anticipation.

This was it.

This was what she was trying to hide from.

He was the precise reason why she'd drank so fucking much.

She held no loyalty to him, after all, they were just sleeping together. God only knew the string of women and men that came and went from his bedroom, but as he approached, the distance between them rapidly closing, she couldn't deny the small twinge of guilt that ate at the very centre of her chest.

"Heeeey there." Smooth. Real fucking smooth. She should teach classes on the ability not look like a fucking idiot in front of insanely handsome men. "What's up?"

Theo put his finger to his lips as he tip-toed past the open bedroom door. Once within arm's reach, he pulled her to him, his hands sliding across her hips, fingers splayed wide over her arse as he brought their bodies together in the hallway. His mouth found hers easily, the soft pillow of his lips made her knees buckle. Her hands found his broad shoulders, clinging to them so she didn't melt in the middle of Harry and Ginny's hallway.

He lifted her like she weighed nothing, cradling her body to his as he pushed her against the wall, nearly knocking down a lovely family portrait of the Potters from last spring. His kiss was frantic, as if he hadn't just been with her three nights prior, like he'd missed the touch and feel of her skin beneath his fingertips.

"Theo—we can't." Despite her words, her lips moved against his, hands sliding through his hair, ruining what little semblance of order it had. "We're in the—_ah!_—hallway." His teeth nipped at her bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth as his hands gripped the bottom of her dress, sliding the fabric higher and higher and higher until she felt the warmth of his fingers on her ass. "Someone could… find us."

Theo grunted softly against her lips, his hips pushing mercilessly against hers, grinding his straining erection into her core leaving zero questions about his intentions. He wanted her, preferably _now._ "I can fix that." Pulling back from their kiss, he looked down the hallway, eyes flickering to the bathroom door that lay ajar just across the hall, and then over to a shut door opposite of it. "Perfect." He eased her body up higher, arms locking tighter as he moved down the hall.

She let out a small squeak, her arms tightening around his neck as an unintended laugh bubbled up her throat. Jesus, this was absolutely _not_ what she expected when she agreed to come over, not that she minded, but definitely not her envisioned day.

Theo carried them across the hall , stumbling only slightly under her weight as his shoulder crashed into the opposite wall, knocking several pictures askew. "Fucking hell."

"Careful!" Hermione pressed on the wall, palm pushing against the plaster to prevent him from guiding her directly into it. "Despite popular belief, I _am_ breakable, you know?"

Theo's fingers dug into her ass, his grip borderline painful. "Oh, I don't know about that… You can take a bit of pain." His voice was low, dripping with the promise of what he was going to do to her once he got her out of the hallway and alone.

Stumbling towards the door, Theo fumbled with the knob, only managing to twist it just enough to let them inside before he let it snap shut with a soft kick of his heel.

His mouth was on her neck, all teeth and tongue, as he worked down her exposed skin until he could mouth at the tops of her breasts with a renewed hunger. And despite how fucking badly she wanted this, how great his cock felt grinding into her most intimate parts, she couldn't ignore the ebb of shame that tugged on her heart strings.

She'd slept with Draco less than twenty-four fucking hours ago.

This morning she rode his cock in a posh hotel room and then held his face between her thighs in the shower. She'd cried out his name and saw the galaxies bloom behind her lids. She'd welcomed the morning sun with a fucking fantastic orgasm and didn't regret a single part of her time with the blond. She had nothing to be ashamed of, she wasn't dating Theo, she owed him no explanation.

But logic, however infallible, didn't matter when it came to matters of the heart.

"Theo, stop." She pushed lightly on his shoulders. "Theo… Theo, please." His kisses moved further south, chin pushing the neckline of her dress lower until he could wrap his lips around her nipple through the flimsy see through fabric of her bralette. "Theo _stop!"_

He set her down immediately, his hands lifting as he took a step back, putting a respectable amount of space between them. "What? Did I… Is everything okay?" Concern swirled in his eyes, overpowering the glassy lust that had colored them moments earlier. "I'm sorry if I—"

"I fucked someone else." God, she was a piece of shit. She didn't deserve someone like Theo. Someone who respected her boundaries. Someone who didn't hesitate at her request to stop, no matter how far they'd gone. Someone who cared about her, despite her numerous flaws.

"I'm sorry—what?"

"I fucked someone… last night. I… uh… I went on a date and slept with someone." Her teeth worried her bottom lip as she dropped her eyes from his face to burn holes into the carpet. She was prepared for shame, prepared to take the brunt of his anger, prepared to be told she was a slut, or slag—she could vaguely remember Ginny using that word once or twice. Regardless of the slur, she was ready to take whatever he'd give. "I just thought you ought to know… before this—"

"Did you enjoy it?"

Her mind screeched to a halt, wayward thoughts freeze framing mid-sentence in her mind as her brow furrowed. Her fingers flexed at her sides, eyes slowly lifting up his body. Starting at the toes of his boots, she moved up his lean legs, across his abdomen, before finally settling on his face, which held an almost predatory smile.

"Uh… Come again?"

Theo moved slowly, one hand smoothing his rumpled hair down as the other reached for her, fingers hovering just over her hip, waiting for permission to touch her again. His hulking body towered over her, overpowering her with his mere presence, as he leaned in until his lips were just against the shell of her ear, hot puffs of breath tickling across her cheek and down her neck.

"I said… Did you enjoy it?"

Oh this was… this was _not_ what she was expecting.

She trembled, whether from anticipation or nerves, she would never know—quite possibly both. "I did." Her confession was whispered, afraid if she spoke too loudly others might hear what an absolute tart she was.

Theo hummed, the rumble of his chest vibrating straight through her as he leaned down, featherlight lips running across her neck. "Did he make you come, Granger?" His teeth grazed over the taunt tendon. "Did you enjoy having his cock in your pretty little pussy?" She gulped. When did it get so fucking hot in here? "How many times did you let him fuck you? Did he come in your cunt or in that gorgeous mouth of yours?"

Her eyes widened, memories of her night pulled to the forefront of her mind. The bed, soft and supple, the weight of his body crushing hers. The window sill, the press of cold glass against her spine, the feeling of his hips biting her inner thighs with each thrust. The shower, his hands spreading her wide, the softness of his hair between her fingertips.

A whimper slipped from her lips despite her better judgment, and she shivered. "Theo… I–_ohgod_—you d-don't want to k-know that." His mouth was on her neck, nibbling, biting, licking against her skin as his hands began to pull up her floral dress fistful by fistful until the cold air splashed against her thighs.

"But I do." His teeth grazed her shoulder, working the neck of her dress wide until it slipped over the cap of her shoulder. "I want to hear how much you loved fucking someone else… and how you still want _my _cock despite coming for someone else." She felt fingers dance along her hip, slowly walking their way across the waistband of what she considered her sensible pair of panties. "How you can't wait for me to bend you over and fill you with my cock."

Did she want that?

Wasn't she still sore?

Fuck, she did.

She wanted it—_him_—more than anything.

That needy ache between her thighs bloomed, pulsing with renewed vigor despite the lingering soreness from her exploits just hours before. She wasn't sure if it made her a slut, or a nymphomanic, or if she might have a clinical fucking problem, but when she felt two fingers press into the center of her panties, dragging a low line down her slit, her knees nearly buckled.

"Fuck… Already so wet for me, you filthy girl." Theo kissed her neck, his breath caressing her shoulder and the tops of her breast as he laid his forehead against her clavicle. "Say it, Granger… Tell me what I want to hear... Be my _good girl _and I'll give you what you need._"_

She was going to hell.

No question about it, and from the way it seemed, Theo would have a front row ticket right next to her.

"I want you to fuck me. I want your cock." Her hands trembled as she lifted them to his chest, fingers sliding over the dips and curves of the defined muscles hidden beneath his shirt. "Please…"

He spun her quickly, large hands gripping her hips, holding her tight against his front so his denim covered cock pressed against her ass.

The world felt topsy turvey, nothing made fucking sense, and she barely had time to register the room he'd stumbled into contained a crib as he moved them from where they stood in the centre. Her mind whirled, hands desperately gripping his forearms. They were in the nursery, Ginny and Harry's shrine to their future child. _Fuck! _They were about to fuck in a goddamned nursary. If that didn't send red flags waving, nothing else would.

"No, no, no!" Hermione rushed out, gulping thickly. "N-not the crib."

Theo stopped moving, his hands still curled tightly around the jut of her hip bones and she felt his mouth lift from her shoulder, looking around the room for the first time. "Oh, bugger." Had she not felt so _needy,_ she might have laughed. "Shite, um… maybe we can—"

"The dresser." Hermione looked over her shoulder, tongue moistening her kiss swollen lips. "It's sturdier. Less creaky."

Theo's eyes danced, the dark green captivating, exciting. The color was so unique, something she'd only ever seen replicated in his son. Dark, bold, beautiful, she could spend hours getting lost in their depths, unable to look away as emotions rippled across their surface. "God, you're fucking perfect."

"Hardly."

"Shut up." His mouth was on hers again in an instant, craning her neck back with the strong grip of his large hand on her jaw. He began to walk them across the room, nearly tripping over the plush shag rug that sat in the center of the nursery on his quest to press her against the changing table-dresser combination.

Biting her bottom lip as he pulled away, Theo's smile widened at her low whimper of pain-pleasure. "Bend over."

She'd bought this particular piece of furniture with Ginny no less than three weeks prior. They'd discussed the practicality of having the dual purpose piece of furniture—how it would really be beneficial and space saving. She'd sat in a fucking Buy Buy Baby, debating white verse brown, and now, she would never be able to look at it the same.

This memory would forever be seared into her mind.

But she couldn't even begin to deny how fucking excited she was.

Bending at the waist with gentle encouragement from his hand on her spine, Hermione leaned over the dresser, her head cocking to the side so it didn't hit the wall. She reached back, gathering her dress in rapid fistfuls as she heard the distinct clink of his belt opening.

"You need to hurry. Before someone realiz—"

_Smack!_

The sharp snap of pain flared to life on her right asscheek. Like an electric shock, warmth bloomed from its epicenter, spreading across her skin until she felt the flush all the way up to her cheeks. "Don't tell me what to do, Granger. I know _exactly_ what you need."

He curled a finger into the crotch of her panties, knuckle brushing over her sodden slit, tickling lightly against her clit. Her fingers scraped the surface of the dresser, searching for purpose as she rocked back into his touch.

"Did he do this to you?" His voice was but a purr again—low, rough, syrupy. Like she could pour it over ice cream. The things he did to her with just his filthy words should be illegal. He was a father for Christ's sake! "Did he make you _this_ wet?"

The answer was more complicated than she had the ability to answer. Yes, Draco had done these things to her, but not like this. He didn't make her melt, or wish for her own demise via his cock. He didn't make her question her sanity by bending her over a changing table and he didn't make her beg to be fucked. "N-No."

His laugh was deep, rumbly, and sent trembles down her spine. He yanked her panties down her thighs and she felt his lips slide across her backside as he bent low to work them over her ankles.

Widening her stance, she dared to look over her shoulder when she felt one of his hands at her waist. His cock brushed against her slit, coating the head in her essence. "I know just what you need, don't I, Granger?" He notched himself at her entrance, barely pushing inside before pulling back. "I know exactly what your body craves."

Cocky. Arrogant. Infuri—

"Fuck, Theo!" He pushed inside her roughly, skin snapping loudly against her ass. Her hips slammed into the dresser before he pulled back to deliver another brutal stroke. He didn't waste any time, using all of his strength to push and pull her pliant body with each frantic thrust, fingertips digging into the soft skin at her hips.

"So fucking good… So perfect."

His praise sounded miles away, distant, lost through the fog that was her mind. She couldn't focus on his praise, nor how utterly wrong it was for him to be doing this to her only a room away from where his son and her nephew played. Not to mention the party downstairs. Anyone could walk in. Anyone could find them.

"No one fucks you like I do. No one makes you feel this good."

"_Ohgodohgodohgod_."

She tried to stay quiet, teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she felt her body wind up at record speed. They had only just begun but she could already feel herself teetering on the edge of oblivion, toes curled around the ledge, ready to dive into the chaos. And just as suddenly as she rose with the waves, she was consumed.

Her cunt spasmed around him, body desperately trying to pull him with her as she smothered her face against her arm to prevent herself from announcing her climax to the occupants of the house.

Her body spasmed, limbs twitching as her nerve endings fired pulse after pulse to her muscles, and Theo kept his pace, delivering body jeering thrusts into her until he found his own end. His body doubled over hers, a soft growl marking his completion as she felt his seed spill inside her in bursts, filling her completely until she could feel the distinct trickle of it running down the inside of her thighs.

"So good." Theo's lips were at her damp hairline, pressing tender kisses across her scalp as he lifted her up. He had one arm around her middle, fingers fanned wide across her stomach, stroking reverently across the layer of softness that padded her middle while his other hand stroked her side. "Such a good girl for me."

It was these twilight moments, stuck between reality and the hazy europhia, that Hermione secretly craved. His touch, his words, his affection. Sex with Theo was amazing, he checked all her boxes, making her body do things she wasn't even fucking aware were possible. (Hello, vaginally stimulated orgasm. Talking specifically about you.) But the after care was about as transcendent as it came.

She could've lived in these moments forever. Cozy, curled up against his body, enveloped in the warmth of his arms and listening to the soft whisper of his words.

"'Mione?"

"_Mother fucker._" Her elbow sunk into Theo's middle unwittingly in her haste to get away. Harry's voice carried closer, the familiar cadence of his heavy footfall growing closer with each second that passed. "Fuck, fuck, _fuck_." Her hands smoothed out the wrinkles of her dress before they moved up to primp her curls, nails scratching at her hairline to break apart the sheen of sweat. "Where is my underwear?"

"Shh!" Theo was already tucking himself back into his jeans, making quick work of fastening his belt, and just as he was threading the tail of his belt through the loops, he froze, listening intently as Harry's footsteps echoed just outside the door.

This was it.

This was the day she had to try and explain the two year fuck-buddy relationship.

This might also be the day Harry finally punched Theo in the nose—something he'd literally daydreamed about since hearing second-hand about a fight he'd had with E.M.

"'Mione?"

"Harry! Get back down here! She's fine—probably just having a wee."

Bless Ginny.

"Or taking a shit."

Seamus she could live without.

Theo snorted, his hand moving to cover his lips, dark green eyes wide as he fought back a laugh. It wasn't until Harry moved back down the hallway that Theo finally let loose the chuckle. "You're friends are… something else."

"Whatever, asshole." Hermione sighed, shaking her head, gaze averted from Theo to the floor. "Just help me find my fucking underwear please."

"You mean these?" Theo was already by the door, the nude pair of bikini cut panties dangling off his index finger.

"Yes! Can I—"

"No… I don't think so." He curled his fist around them, humming with amusement as he tucked them into the front pocket of his jeans. "I think I'll keep this pair."

"Theo, that's not funny!"

"Was I laughing?"

"Give me my underwear."

His nose wrinkled, lips pursing as if he was actually considering her demand before he shook his head.

"No." His hand was already on the knob, twisting the cold metal and pulling the door open. "Just don't bend over and you'll be fine."

"Are you—_Theo!_" Her foot stomped, eyes widening as she watched him back out from the door into the hallway. "Theo, get back here!"

"See ya downstairs, Granger." He winked, actually fucking winked, at her like the Bond villian he was, before spinning on his heel and disappearing down the hallway. Only the sound of a far too cheery whistle marked his location as he made his way downstairs to return to the party.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

many thanks to dreamsofdramione for the inspiration about using the dresser vs the crib. We both came to the conclusion the crib was much too fragile. haha!

Until next time. xx


	6. Chapter 6

Yoga.

Fuck _yoga_.

Fuck the skintight pants that did nothing to hide the lumps in her figure. Fuck the snobby instructor who acted like doing a downward dog wasn't an invitation for your body to fart. And especially fuck that same stuck up bitch who was _always_ in one of those classeswho thought she was some yogi-goddess with her unshaven armpits and natural deodorant that most definitely did not work.

Despite her disdain for all things yoga related, Hermione _loved_ Ginny. Especially when she bribed her with baked goods and a Venti cold brew.

Ginny needed a partner for her prenatal yoga, partly because of Harry's inability to bend, but mainly because he asked too many damn questions, and this was supposed to be relaxing, not aneurism inducing.

So, armed with a bit too much caffeine and half a croissant in her stomach, Hermione donned her best stretch pants and participated alongside Ginny. Besides, it was only eight weeks' worth of classes—how bad could it really be?

"Oh look at you! You must be, what? A few months along."

Hermione looked over her shoulder, her brow furrowed in confusion, because there was no fucking way this Barbie-doll blonde bitch had just asked that question. "Uh… What?" She looked back, blowing a stray curl from her face as she rolled up the faded purple mat, praying Ginny would waddle her pregnant ass over and save her from actual human interaction.

"How far along are you?" The blonde repeated, hand rubbing her own swollen belly with the fever of a hungry toddler. "You're getting an early start. Kudos to you! I didn't start attending classes until my third trimester."

She could feel her face pinch as she sucked on her front teeth, stubbed fingernails digging into the soft mat just enough to leave crescent shaped marks embedded in the foam. From where Hermione was standing, she had two very real options for how to handle this: one involved punching a pregnant lady, and the other involved Ginny purchasing her a _very_ large breakfast burrito as an apology.

She was opting for the latter because if someone was going to accuse her of looking pregnant, she could at least eat like a fucking pregnant lady.

"I'm not, but thanks for assuming!" Tucking her mat under her arm, she patted her stomach, a sharp smile lifting her features. "This is all thanks to beer, cheese, and carbs."

"Oh! I'm so sorr—"

"_Don't._" Lifting her hand to silence the presumptuous yogi, Hermione leaned over to peer around her, finding Ginny halfway across the classroom. "Come on, waddles. Let's blow this popsicle stand before they assume we're a couple."

"What on Earth are you going on about?" Ginny cocked a brow, a hand on her lower back to try and relieve some of the strain her swollen abdomen placed on her petite frame. She moved around the blonde, only offering a friendly wave before slipping out of the room. "We _are_ a couple."

Hermione snorted as she followed, letting the heavy door slam shut behind her. "Oh riiiight. I forgot. Sister Wives." Nudging her friend with her hip, Hermione fell into step beside her as they moved through the fitness center toward the parking lot.

"Except you don't sleep with my husband."

"Yeah, no. That would be weird."

"Which begs the question… Did you shag Mr. Friday night?"

Ginny had managed to hold off for two whole days. Saturday hadn't really allowed Ginny time for the typical cross examination post-date, and Sunday, per usual, Hermione had shut herself off from the world to finish her latest book, Bernardine Evaristo's _Girl, Woman, Other_.

If Sundays were for religion, Hermione had always found herself eager to worship at the altar of the written word. She partook in the sacrament of coffee and left-overs, while losing herself in far away worlds. It had been a habit for years now, with its roots going back as far as she could remember to when she'd curl up between her parents in their king-size bed and they'd take turns reading books aloud.

_Charlotte's Web, James and the Giant Peach, _and _Anne of Green Gables_ were her Old Testament, the foundation on which her literary life was built. Stephen Chbosky, Suzanne Collins, and Chuck Palahniuk her apostles that helped guide her through the most difficult time in her life. She found forgiveness, respite, and love in the words written by others and, although many things came and went from her life, her love for books remained.

Harry and Ginny never questioned her Sunday ritual, and instead let her burrow away in the safety of paperbacks and blankets for twenty-four hours before they'd help pry her from the grip of fiction and return to the grace that was their friendship.

"Maybe."

"You bitch!" An elbow nudged her side, and Hermione stepped away to avoid the second blow, her hand curling around her ribs. "I can't believe you didn't tell me immediately!"

"I'm sorry!" She wasn't. She didn't have too many secrets to keep—aside from that whole two year affair with Theo… _and _the one time she saw Harry naked… _and _that time her and Ginny made out in some Palo Alto bar… _and _now Draco. So… four. Four secrets wasn't too much, was it? By her accounts, she likely had less than most Americans, so she still considered herself in the black—so to speak. "Texting you wasn't really on the forefront of my mind after our night together."

"So, was he good?" Ginny pressed, brown eyes wide with excitement as she moved to rub the front of her swollen stomach. "You need to tell me everything right now."

Was he good? Did a bear shit in the woods? Of course he was good! But she couldn't very well divulge that. After all, they were adults—these things weren't discussed… in public.

"He was… _gifted._" Hermione slipped her keys from the side pocket of her gym bag, thumb sliding across the wing logo as she tried to prevent the shit eating grin from stretching across her lips as Ginny let out a little whoop.

"Yes! Tell me more! Does he eat—"

"Alright, Adam Carolla, can we keep Love Line PG until we make it to the car?" Hermione lifted her brows expectantly, laughing when Ginny made a zipping motion over her lips shortly followed by a small bout of clapping before she sped-waddled across the parking lot toward her MINI.

Hermione took her time, falling three steps behind her friend just for the sole purpose of driving her insane. She let an elderly driver cross the lane, and made a great effort to make sure her gym bag was safely stored in her trunk, before climbing into the driver's seat where Ginny practically pounced on her once the door was shut.

"Spill! How big is he? Talented mouth? Which hotel did you stay at? Did he pay for dinner? _Bloody hell, _did you even make it to dinner?"

Hermione pulled out of the parking spot, laughter filling up the small cabin of her vehicle as she maneuvered through the cars. "Yes, Yes, the Ritz, and dinner was had—room service after many, many drinks at Trader Sam's. _Jesus Christ_, do I need to have a conversation with Harry because you're more thirsty than usual?"

Ginny sagged back in the passenger seat with an exasperated sigh, hands resting on top of her bump. "Feel bloody free! That best friend of yours hasn't touched me in weeks! '_I don't want to hit the baby.' 'What if he can feel it?'_" Had her grip been any more relaxed on the wheel, Hermione might have careened off the road due to uncontrollable laughter at the bumbling slow tone Ginny fell into when mocking her spouse. "He doesn't have a bloody twelve inch cock! I told him it's physically impossible, but _heaven forbid_."

Merging onto the freeway had never been harder. Thankfully, she'd splurged on the lane assist. Reaching out, Hermione patted Ginny's hand in mock sympathy before dabbing the corner of her eyes with her knuckles. "Oh, you poor thing."

"I know! _Anyways_—he took you to the Ritz? Who is this bloke and does he have a brother with a pregnancy kink?"

"I'm actually not entirely sure what his family breakdown is. It never came up." To be fair, she never asked. She might have also purposefully avoided topics such as family, the future, and… Well, anything that would make their date something other than casual fun. "But I get the impression he's an only child."

"You get the impression he's an only child? What the bloody hell does that mean?"

"He just gives off this… vibe." Her fingers drummed on the leather covered steering wheel as they slowed to a crawl in mid-afternoon traffic.

"A vibe?"

"Yeah."

"What, pray tell, is an only child vibe, Hermione?"

"Mouthy, charming, knows how attractive they are because their parents doted on them every bloody second of the day."

"Harry is only half of those." Ginny furrowed her brow, nose wrinkling as she peered out the window, watching the cityscape roll past them at a snail's pace.

"Yeah, but he's an orphan so that takes precedence over his only child status." She lifted her hand off the wheel, giving a small rolling gesture. "He gets the charming part with none of the self absorbedness."

"Okay—well, what about you? You're an only child and not in love with your own reflection."

"Again—orphan."

"Your parents died when you were fifteen, Hermione," Ginny scoffed. "I'd hardly call you an orphan."

Hermione tried to bite back the bitter laugh that bubbled up her throat. Ginny would never understand what it felt like to spend Christmas alone, or realise that there would be no one waiting to help pick you up after your failures. She had family, loads, and loads of fucking family—brothers, and cousins, and crazy aunts to spare. Where Hermione had… no one.

Her parents were only children of only children.

The Granger family name would live and die with her, a small fact that still plagued her during her darkest moments.

Ginny's ignorance to this fact wasn't meant to be unkind, Hermione knew this since the redhead likely didn't possess a single bone of malice in her body. So, instead of letting it bother her, Hermione opted to do what she did best.

Deflect.

"Any other questions? Or can we consider this topic finished?"

Ginny snorted as unladylike and loudly as possible, a small glorious reminder that, while she was a looker _and _a much better partner than Hermione could ever be, she was still capable of basic human flaws. "Absolutely not. We've got at least forty minutes until we make it home—I expect you to rehash every detail of your date. Leave nothing out."

* * *

"I can't believe I agreed to this." Theo sighed into the rim of his pint of ale before he took a large swig, trailing behind Eli who seemed intent on running full steam ahead between the flashing arcade machines that littered the game area. "Remind me again why you picked this bloody place."

Because it was across the bay.

Because no one would run into them here.

Because they had amazing pizza. (Here's looking at you, peanut butter pizza!)

"Because it's_ fun._ Eli's having a blast." Hermione lifted two fingers off her own pint, gesturing toward his son who had just found a flashing SpongeBob Whack-A-Patrick machine. "And I'm also the fucking coolest, haven't you figured that out yet?"

Theo hummed in amusement as he fell into step beside her, right arm slowly reaching out to wind around her waist in a gesture that felt far too romantic to simply be friendly. He did this from time to time, crossed that carefully constructed line she'd made three months into their tryst. At first, she thought maybe he _did _want more, but clearly that wasn't the case. Perhaps it was for appearances. No one would think it odd they were together if he treated her like something more in public.

His index finger looped in her belt loop, tugging her closer until her hip pressed against his thigh. "You are pretty spectacular."

She leaned into him, allowing the warmth from his side to creep into the thin cotton of her t-shirt dress. "You know, Mr. Nott, flattery will get you nowhere, right?" Hermione glanced up at him through thick lashes, her lips quirking to the side before she wiggled from his hold to meander along the skee-ball machines. "What did you want to meet up for, anyway? Not that I mind the free meal, but our typical liaisons don't involve Eli."

"We've taken you out before." While his statement wasn't entirely untrue, as she had gone out to dinner with the father-son duo on more than one occasion, it was usually a prelude to some fantastic sex later in the evening, and she knew damn well that Tuesday nights were not one of their opportunities for such activities. No, Theo needed to drop Eli off with E.M. at eight-o-clock, as per their schedule. "We took you to that place for your birthday. You know, the one with the train…" He snapped his fingers, face scrunched up in thought. "Spaghetti Warehouse?"

"Old Spaghetti Factory."

"Yeah! That one!"

Hermione nodded, laughing into her pint glass as she took another sip. "My apologies, you're absolutely correct. _Sometimes_ you do take me out before bending me over your mattress." She could feel eyes on her almost immediately after the words left her lips, and the judgement from the parents who trailed their own spawn was near palpable. "But, we both know this isn't one of those occasions. So, spill the beans, Nott. What's up?"

As if on cue, Theo's eyes drifted away from hers, and he suddenly took a keen interest in finishing his ale.

He was nervous.

He was hesitating.

_Fuck._

"...Theo?" She couldn't keep the drip of worry from her voice as she watched him run his fingers through his hair in that telltale sign of apprehension. The same tell he'd use when E.M. was trying to get him to agree something he wasn't comfortable with. That half grimace of hesitation already masked his smile and her heart nearly sank.

Well, this was it.

They'd had a good run.

Just shy of two years wasn't bad... considering.

She always knew it would come to an end. He had a boyfriend, and well... Technically, she wasn't anything to him. Nothing short of a good lay a couple times a week. A stress relief from work. A laugh when they were with their group of friends. She was the cute, chubby girl he'd taken pity on and fucked into submission.

She could already feel the lump form, and her palms suddenly felt hot, despite the cool beer in her hands. A flush rolled across her cheeks as she said his name again, coming to a stop in the middle of the aisle.

The cacophony of the Fruit Ninja machine was harsh and unforgiving, making her anxiety tick up and up until her stomach felt as if it had folded itself into a Gordian Knot in some attempt to claw its way up her throat. Her heart raced, and she could feel the pin prick of those walls she thought she'd erected begin to crumble.

Fun.

Casual.

_Ha!_

It all seemed so laughable now that she was on the verge of tears in the middle of a fucking Incredible John's Pizza. Surrounded by flashing lights, snotty kids, and the fragments of broken families just trying to outdo their ex-partner with a better weekend with the kids.

"I've been meaning to tell you this… but there hasn't been a good time—"

Of course not. Was there ever a _good time_ for this sort of thing? Even if there was, she highly doubted it was now—_here._

"But… Uh… My boyfriend's in town for a while and… Well—"

"You want to focus on your relationship. Right. Totally understandable." It sounded genuine, despite the small waiver to her voice, and Hermione pressed her lips together in a tight smile before she lifted her glass to take a large gulp. Thank fuck they served beer at this hell hole, even if it was Bud Light.

"What? No! Well, I mean, sure, why not but… Wait did you think I asked you to come so I could… let you down easy?" Theo ran his tongue across his lips as he shook his head, dark green eyes darting away to track his son before he looked back toward her and took a large step to close the distance. His hand went to her arm, thick fingers curling around her bicep. "Jesus Christ, I'm not some bloody arsehole. I would never end things with you in a bloody pizza parlor."

"It's technically a pizza buffet."

Theo laughed. That kind of laugh that made his eyes smile and body shake. Genuine. Honest. Compassionate. Everything that she valued in their off-kilter friendship. In her experience men were assholes. They lied, they cheated, and they weren't very deep. It wasn't until Harry waltzed into her life that she saw it was possible for some of them not to suck. And Theo? Theo was making his way onto her exception list one crooked smile at a time.

"You're so daft sometimes, Granger." He squeezed her arm gently, teeth sinking into his bottom lip in that adorable boy-next-door kind of way that made her toes tingle and heart sing. Fuck him for being so good looking when he was seconds away from possibly, maybe (okay, so maybe she was over reacting) breaking up with her. Fuck him for being so charming. Fuck him for weaseling his way into her heart over the course of two years.

"So you don't want to… ya know?" Her index finger tapped on the pint glass. "End this?"

"No."

_Thank fucking God. _

She could breathe again. That lump in her throat began to subside and the worry that ate at her stomach no longer felt so debilitating. Nevermind the clearly physical reaction she was having, she would have to worry about the logistics behind it later, because God forbid she actually assessed that her feelings for him went deeper than the bedroom rumba they'd been dancing for forty-eight months. No. That level of introspection would best be handled at a _much_ later date.

"Unless you want—"

"I don't." She might have said it a little too fast, too eager, too needy, but his reaction was worth her flub. His eyes sparkled. Brilliant dark green gemstones glittered like the fucking Hope Diamond at her like she'd just given him a life preserver while he was lost at sea. Her heart might have involuntarily skipped a beat, and for half a second, she considered what that look meant, but then that nagging black cloud that always lingered in the back of her mind returned with a vengeance.

Of course he didn't want it to end.

Why would he?

His boyfriend was here—but that was only temporary, wasn't it?

If they ended their little game… Well, then he'd have no one to warm his bed for the rest of the year.

"So..." She finished off her beer, wincing as the too large gulp forced its way down her throat and she wiped her mouth across the back of her hand. "Your boyfriend's in town. That must be nice."

She moved down the aisle, side stepping running children as she looked through the crowd for Eli, teeth worrying the bottom corner of her mouth. She could feel Theo fall in step beside her, the gentle brush of his shoulder against hers letting her know just how fucking close he lingered.

"Yeah. It is."

"Is he staying with you?" She shouldn't have asked, it really wasn't her business, but he was her friend, right? They could have a normal discussion about this sort of thing.

"No." The word sounded bitter, far deeper than the two little letters. "But he'll stay over sometimes. Which is why our meet ups might be infrequent."

She chanced a quick glance out of the corner of her eye, and almost wished she hadn't. He was nursing the final sip of his ale, eyes downcast to stare at the dirty carpet, and where moments earlier hope sparkled his eyes, it was almost as if someone had turned off the lights in a room. He was pained—the unspoken disappointment so evident it made her wish she knew his stupid boyfriend so she could call and give him a piece of her mind.

"That's okay." Reaching out, she let her fingertips trail against his knuckles, the gesture a small sliver of the type of intimacy she could provide him—at least in public. "I hope you two get to spend enough time together." Okay, that last part was only _slightly_ a lie.

She cared for Theo, not strictly in the biblical sense either. He was her friend, and she knew he was happy with his relationship, and that he cared deeply for his boyfriend. So, even if a small part of her was morbidly curious and jealous about the logistics of how they operated, she could put that aside to be a better friend than lover.

"Yeah… me too." His palm turned over, and his fingers slowly slipped between hers. He didn't complete the hand hold, he didn't tighten his grip or press their palms together, but it felt more intimate than either had ever been in the past. It felt like a perfect representation of them. Halfway. Not quite fulfilling the cavity of craving for true intimacy, but just enough to graze the surface.

She let their fingers stay twined for several minutes as they followed the rambunctious child, careful to make sure he never saw the gesture. Turning at the end of the aisle, Hermione broke away from Theo, moving behind Eli, who was swiping the little plastic card at a dinosaur claw machine. Setting her empty pint glass down on top of the machine, she squatted beside him. "Which one you going for, Bubba?"

"The green one." Eli's eyes were narrowed in concentration, little pink tongue held between his teeth, as he maneuvered the claw with as much finesse as a baby deer.

Pressing her finger to the foggy glass littered with fingerprints, she pointed to a lime green, three-horned monstrosity in the back. "That one?"

"_Noo_. Not the triceratops. The rex!"

"Of course, how could I possibly think you liked the triceratops?" Hermione nudged Eli with her shoulder playfully, looping her arm around his middle as she pressed her chin against his shoulder so she could guide him properly toward his goal. "A little more to the left… Your other left. No, Eli the _other_ way."

"He's four, Granger. He doesn't know his left from right." Theo kneeled down on the opposite side of his son, large hand curled around the top of the machine to steady him as his other arm came to curl around both Eli and her. His hand rested comfortably on her lower back, as if the space were made to cradle his palm.

Before she could correct the claw placement further, Eli jammed his thumb against the faded red button and let out a small groan of disappointment went it came up empty handed, only having just grazed the leg of the plastic t-rex.

"It's okay. We can try again." Hermione motioned towards the little card reader and waited for him to slide the plastic through once more before she reached out to adjust his position, trying her best to ignore the way Theo's thumb swept across her spine as he helped direct her in hushed tones.

"To the left… just a little—oh, too far. Back… back… _there!"_

Eli bubbled, bouncing on his toes as he watched the silver claw move, and Hermione could feel her smile widen. Theo got lucky. Two beautiful people rarely made cute kids. And E.M.? Well, she was a literal beauty queen and lord only knew the amount of male modeling Theo could have done had it not been for an overbearing patriarch.

"Alright, Bub. Hit the button." She let her hand fall against her thigh, and when Eli jammed the button for a second time, she watched the claw lower with bated breath, hoping they might be successful this attempt for Eli's sake—and maybe only a small part because she was competitive and wanted to win.

"YESSSS!"

Little arms flew around her neck, and Eli's forty pound frame collided against hers with the enthusiasm of an overgrown puppy. Laughter bubbled up her throat as she fell backwards on the filthy carpet, arms wrapping around the boy to cushion him against her front.

"_Elijah Harrison Nott!_"

Theo's tone dripped like honey, igniting the most primal part of her being. It was nearly that same deep, booming tone he took in the bedroom. Something she'd come to realise was that his 'stern dad' voice and 'bedroom edict' were almost of the same baritone, and she was suddenly thankful for their limited interactions as a group.

"It's fine. He's fine!" Hermione pressed a kiss against Eli's temple, patting his back gently before easing him off her.

"He doesn't need to—"

"He's a kid, Theo. It's fine. Honest."

"Still." Theo's brow furrowed as he watched his son sheepishly stand, little hands tugging at the hem of his Paw Patrol shirt. "You need to say sorry for knocking Hermione over." Theo crawled closer, still on a tall knee. One large hand curled over hers and the other cupped her shoulder as he eased her up off the ground to a sitting position.

"I'm sorry, Minnie." His voice was soft, watery even, and her heart instantly broke. Jesus, this was exactly why she didn't have children. Never mind the fact that she wasn't financially or mentally ready for offspring, it was her complete and utter inability to not fall to pieces when they were sad or hurt. "I didn't mean to…"

"I know." Pushing up on her knees, she reached out to pull the boy to her for a firm hug, pressing a tender kiss on the crown of his head. "It's alright. I'm not hurt."

She heard sniffles—_actual fucking sniffles_—against her chest as his little hands curled into her shirt. She looked up, shooting daggers at Theo, who watched the little scene with something akin to skepticism. Like he'd seen this song and dance before and didn't buy a minute of this show his son was putting on. But the hot tears that splashed against her chest were real! Theo clearly had blinders on.

"Hey, hey, hey. No tears." Reaching down, she tipped his chin up so she could look at his face. Sweeping her thumbs across his cheeks, she smiled down at him, trying her best to ignore his quivering lower lip. "Get your t-rex and I'll take you to get some of those mini donuts, yeah?"

"A-and ice cream?"

"Duh. Is there any other way?"

And just like that, the water works stopped.

"Okay!" He slipped from her hold without an ounce of hesitation and pulled the plastic treasure from the machine before he darted off through the arcade toward the buffet.

Hermione sat back on her heels, watching his little blond head bob through the crowd, dumbfounded. He had… But… The tears were… "Did… Did I just get played? By a four- year-old?"

"Uh huh."

"That little shit." Hermione pushed up off the floor, hands brushing the dust from her knees.

"I tried to warn you." Theo looped his arm around her shoulders, carrying both of their empty pint glasses. "You're too soft, Granger."

"I am not! I just… _Wow._ He's lucky he's cute." Her arm looped around his tapered waist, head falling against his muscular shoulder.

"I remind him of that fact. Often."

Mini donuts and ice cream were had, much to Theo's chagrin. By the time the sugar high wore off, Eli was passed out in a booth, head in Hermione's lap, little body stretched out along the vinyl bench seat.

Her fingers idly carded through his hair as she sat back, sipping the last of her iced tea down in an attempt to sober up a bit more before getting on the road and heading back to San Jose.

"Okay, so I know it's none of my business, but… Theo, just because you've been with this guy since your balls dropped doesn't mean you're obligated to stay with him, you know that right?"

Okay, maybe she was overstepping her carefully curated line as friend/fuck buddy, but someone needed to tell him.

Theo sighed, head tipping back against the cushioned seat and he lifted his hand to his hair, fingers disappearing into the soft brown locks. "It's… more complicated than that, Granger. I know from your perspective it probably looks bad."

"Uh… yeah. He's traveled thousands of miles to visit you but won't stay in your home… Doesn't want to meet your friends… _And _basically sets the terms of when you can or cannot hang out." She held up three fingers, brows lifting as Theo caught her gaze once more. "Look, I'm not a doctor, but this isn't really fair to you—or Eli. You say you love him, but… If I'm being honest, Theo, he sounds really manipulative."

"Hermione we have history. Not just the shagging in our dorm rooms kind of history. I… I'm far from perfect, and he's forgiven me time and time again. I had a fucking kid with someone while we were dating, and he forgave me." He tossed a hand toward Eli. "And now? Now I live across the globe and we're making it work. It isn't textbook, and sometimes it might seem like he's being unfair, but it's not—really. If you could just meet him—"

"Yeah, but clearly that won't happen for a number of reasons. Beginning with us screwing and ending with him being a shut in."

"He's not a… You know what? I'm not going to defend him. He _is_ a prick. He's moody and still closeted, but you know what? He's _mine_ and I love him and… Maybe I'm daft, but I know he'll change. This isn't easy—coming out as bisexual _and_ polyamorous? It's a lot, especially for families like ours, so I'll be patient and hope that it won't take him until we're old and gray for him to come out."

Her fingers flexed against the table top, and the hand moving Eli's hair froze as she listened to the conviction in his tone. She didn't know their history, and maybe she was judging this mystery man unfairly, but it was hard not to when everything she'd been told was all half information and anonymity for the sake of a man she wasn't sure was worthy of Theo's devotion.

Despite justifying her concern under the mask of friendship, deep down, Hermione knew the real reason for not liking his boyfriend.

She was jealous.

Jealous that he got Theo's attention.

Jealous he'd won his heart.

Jealous that Theo even wanted to be with him.

They were polyamorous, clearly there must be the possibility of Theo having space in his heart to adore another, but… Well, she clearly wasn't it.

And maybe that was the hardest pill to swallow in the whole mess.

She wasn't enough to earn his love, just his cock.

"Okay… I just… I just want you to know you're worth it, Theo. You deserve to be with someone who wants to be with you just as much as you want to be with them. So don't try to force something if it isn't working. Life's too short to wait around for someone to make up their damn mind."

"Yeah… Well, maybe that's my lot in life," he drummed his fingers against the table, his voice tinny and sharp, "to pine after people who aren't ready to commit."

She let her eyes fall to the boy in her lap, the sardonicism of his words felt like he was hinting at something she wasn't yet privy to. Eli shifted under her touch, thin arms curling around her middle as he nuzzled closer, and she watched his pouty lips part with a sleepy sigh.

She should get on the road soon. She had some emails to send, loose ends to tie up at work, but she could afford a couple more minutes. After all, Eli was comfortable and Theo clearly needed a friend.

Forcing her feelings back, she locked the jealousy and pain in the little box in the centre of her heart, shoving it beside the trauma from her past, and told herself she'd deal with it later—like always.

"So, any plans for while he's out?"

"Yeah… We're going to do Santa Cruz at the end of the week."

"The Boardwalk? Oh man, I haven't been there in ages."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Hey look! I wrote a SFW chapter. weird. ;)

Massive thank you's to my team, lumoslyra, lissadream, & dreamsofdramione. My docs are a mess without them. Huge shouty thank you to you all for the likes, reviews, comments, kudos and recs!

obligatory shameless self promotion: Find me on facebook Msmerlin Eff, & Tumblr msmerlin-black. I also admin a mutli & triad facebook group called 'Restricted Section: Multi & Triads' so if you like three or more people involved in your fanficiton romances, come check us out! So many talented writers in that group!

until next time. xx


	7. Chapter 7

_Baking? _

**Yes.**

_As in pastries, pies, tarts, and the like?_

**Ha! No.**

**As in chocolate chip cookies. I hate to disappoint but I'm no Mary Berry. I can barely preheat Pillsbury sugar cookies without burning them.**

_Ahh… that's rather disappointing._

_Here I was about to go pick out a ring and whisk you back to England with me._

He was joking.

He was _clearly_ joking.

But fuck if his playful text didn't send a flurry of butterflies straight to her stomach, tickling up her throat until a small burst of laughter danced off her tongue like she was some sort of school girl instead of a grown ass woman.

"What the actual hell, Mione!" The hum of the Kitchen Aid mixer came to an abrupt stop. "Did you just—"

"Shut it." Her thumb pressed against the side of her iPhone, turning off the screen before she stuffed the device in her back pocket.

"You did, didn't you?" Harry flicked the locking mechanism open before he twisted the metal bowl from the stand. "You just fucking _giggled."_

"Harry. Stop."

"Hermione Granger. The sarcastic bitch who, I believe, has thrown around words such as—"

"Harry, so help me God, I will make you cry in front of your godson if you continue." Snatching the wooden spoon from the granite countertop, she leveled it at her best friend like the childhood weapon she knew it to be.

Harry froze, hands still curled around the metal bowl as his emerald eyes slowly narrowed on her, debating the truthfulness to her threat. "_Fine_… but you did giggle."

The wooden spoon left her hand with a firm flick, twisting through the air like a missile, zooming over the island that separated them, and narrowly avoiding Teddy who was trying to dip two fingers into the sticky chocolate chip batter.

"Ow! Fuck, fuck, _fuck!"_

"Ha!" Teddy, now semi-permanently blued haired, thanks in part to Hermione's temporary gel and the big doe eyes he gave his aunt, snatched the bowl before it toppled to the floor. Harry bounced on his heels, rubbing the bony part of his shoulder where the spoon hit. "She warned you."

"Oh cock off, Teddy." Harry pursed his lips, lifting his hand from his shoulder to give her a rude two-fingered gesture before he bent to pick up the spoon from the floor. "You're supposed to have _my back_, remember?"

"Yeah but… Minnie does cool stuff with me."

"And I don't? I took you to Monster Jam last month!"

Teddy shifted his weight between his legs, thin arms curling around the bowl as he cradled it against his chest. "Yeah, but… like, she takes me to the mall for boba, and bought me that Supreme hoodie for Christmas. _Oh!_ And she lets me have some of her Red Bull."

"What?!"

Fuck! That was a secret! Fucking kid. Hermione widened her eyes at Teddy who, at the very least, seemed to realise his error and grimaced with a small shrug. God, he was lucky he was cute.

"First off, it was sugar free, and it wasn't like I let him have the whole thing! It was only like… once. Maybe twice." Harry did not look happy. "It was all I had in my car!"

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses, flour covered fingers smearing a trail over his sun kissed skin. "Seriously 'Mione? I—"

"Free daycare, Harry. I am _free_. He's never been put in real danger while in my care." Had they had a couple close calls over the years? Sure. But regardless of rogue semis and the one incident with a kitchen knife, Teddy was always perfectly safe in her care. He was nine. A little caffeine wasn't going to kill him! It wasn't like she poured Mountain Dew in a fucking baby's bottle. "Besides, I love him. I would never do anything daft like—_Oh, I don't know,_ let him sip on my beer."

Harry's hand dropped like a lead weight, eyes narrowing at her over the thick black rims of his glasses and she watched the wheels churn, memories of that one occasion rolling back to the forefront of his mind. She knew it was a one off, nothing harmful or even vaguely nefarious. They'd been at her apartment grilling while Ginny was out of town with E.M. on some bullshit charity trip, and Teddy, ever the rambunctious little shit, begged to try a sip of his uncle's beer. Harry let him have a swig of his Bottington's, relying on the misguided assumption that his godson would be like most other small folk and dislike the taste.

He'd been wrong.

Teddy didn't spit out the beer. Instead, he tried for a second sip before Harry swiped the can away and told him to go back to playing Mario Kart (or was it Fortnite? Who could keep up when they released so many damn games each week?).

Regardless, it had only happened once, but Hermione had stowed that little nugget of information in her back pocket, waiting for the perfect day to use it. Which was clearly today, because she was going to be damned if Harry got to judge her unfairly for her occasional less than adult choices.

Harry was the first to break, his eyes rolling as his chest expanded with a heavy sigh. "You're the worst, you know that, right?"

"Yeah. But you keep me around anyways." Not untrue. He fucking adored her. She knew it. He knew it. Hell, even his wife knew it.

"Unfortunately, you're like a hemorrhoid… I can't fucking get rid of you."

"Uncle Harry, what's a hemorrhoid?"

Harry's cheeks crimsoned as he reached for his godson, pulling the thin boy close as he looped one arm around his shoulder. "It's something that old people get." He gave Teddy's hair a quick tussle, messing up the blue Mohawk before he plucked the bowl from his arms. "Alright, go get the baking sheets."

Hermione moved around the island, snatching three spoons from the cutlery drawer on the way, and stood beside Harry, playfully nudging him with her hip before holding out one of the spoons with a soft lift of her lips. "Love you."

"Yeah, _yeah_. Love you too, you tosser." He leaned over, craning down just enough to press a chaste kiss against her cheek, his stubble tickling her before he pulled back and set the aluminum bowl on his counter with a thunk. "Just help me spoon these damn cookies so they can be ready when Ginn' comes home."

"It's too late for that, darling."

Hermione looked over her shoulder to find the redhead in question sauntering into the kitchen, hands propped up on her belly. She was wearing a teal floral sundress that complimented the vibrant red of her hair. Hermione was certain she hadn't picked out the dress herself. No, Ginny tended to favor joggers and sneakers, even while pregnant which meant...

"Minnie!" Before she could so much as react, a little blond wisp ran past her friend at lightning speed and a small set of arms encircled her waist, a familiar face tucked against her stomach.

"Hey Bud!" Dropping her spoon in the bowl, Hermione knelt down to pick up the four year old, propping him on her hip as she hugged him. "What on Earth are you doing here?"

"We're meeting up with Theodore and his boyfriend in Cupertino at six. Ginny offered to play host for a couple hours so I don't have to drive across town." The familiar twang immediately sent the skin on the back of her neck on end and Hermione looked up from the little boy, who was all too happy to loop his arms around her neck, to find the Southern Goddess waltzing in behind Ginny.

All blonde curls, pearly white smile, and perfectly bronzed skin, Ella-Mae was literally everything Hermione was not. Tall, charming, put-together. She wore a canary yellow sundress that looked as if it was literally made for her. Paired with a strappy set of gladiator sandals, she looked as if she'd dressed for a photo shoot instead of returning from the Shelter event that she'd dragged Ginny off to this morning. "Ginny didn't tell me you'd be here though. It's so good to see you, Hermione!"

"That's because Ginny didn't know she'd be here." The redhead quipped before kissing her husband and reaching into the mixing bowl for a spoonful of dough. "Not that I mind—but maybe a heads up would have been nice, Harry."

"Ah, I thought I texted you." Harry shrugged, hand lifting to twist his hair into peaks. "Must have slipped my mind."

"Don't worry. I'm not crashing dinner tonight. Just a quick visit." Hermione playfully bounced Eli on her hip, causing the little boy to squeal excitedly before she set him down at her feet as his mother approached. "And it is good to see you too E.M."

"It's been, what? A couple weeks since brunch." Leaning down, Ella-Mae pulled her into a tight hug. "You look fabulous! Have you lost weight or something?"

Ha! That was laughable. Her diet consisted of potato chips, Diet Coke, cold brew, and cheese sticks. She was fairly certain the way her skirt was digging into her hips gave every indication that no, she most certainly had not lost any fucking weight. Not that miss size two would know anything about that.

"Uh… nope. Same as before, I'm afraid." Fighting through the overpowering floral assault that was her perfume, Hermione returned the embrace before she stepped back, sliding her hands across her hips.

"Well there's something different. Maybe it's that new man of yours."

_Fucking_ Ginny!

Couldn't keep her big mouth shut. She knew she shouldn't have mentioned it. "Heh… maybe. Or maybe you're just getting senile in your old age." At least that was the one thing she could claim on the former beauty queen. Hermione might not be tall, flawless, or graceful, but she was at least younger than her, and although E.M. looked as though as she hadn't aged a day past twenty-one, it was a small (read: tiny) feather in her cap.

"Senile? Ha! Bless your heart. I forgot how funny you are, Hermione." Ella-Mae laughed, her Julia Roberts-esque toothy grin stretching across her painted lips as she claimed an empty barstool beside Teddy who'd begun rolling the cookie dough. "She's just hilarious, isn't she, Ginny?"

"A real laugh-riot." Ginny hummed, leaning back on the counter, palms spread wide across her stomach as she rubbed circles over her bump.

"I think Minnie's funny." Teddy piped up, little hands working a small lump of dough smooth in front of him. "_Funny looking_!"

Hermione stuck out her tongue at Teddy, like the real mature adult she was, before snatching the bowl from in front of him so she could scoop out some of the dough to add to the greased baking sheet. "You know, if you guys are just going to be jerks, I'll happily go back to my condo where I have a cat who happens to think the world of me."

"No! You can't go!" Eli whined at her side, his little button nose wrinkling. "I just got here. Besides, you promised we could play Monster last night!"

Her movements faltered, the soft dough squishing between her fingers when her grip tightened just a little too much and she gulped. Maybe no one heard the last bit? He was four—four-year-olds made mistakes! They could barely wipe their own ass, surely no one would—

"Oh honey, no. You haven't seen Miss Hermione since the cookout." Ella-Mae gave her son a knowing smile.

"Nu-uh." Eli shook his head so hard a bit of blond fringe flopped over his dark green eyes. "Daddy and I saw her yesterday at—"

"Oh shit! Is it four already?" Hermione dropped her spoon to the counter, letting the loud clatter drown out Eli's words. She wiped her fingers across her skirt, smearing a bit of dough into the expensive fabric. "I need to go!"

Harry cocked a brow, emerald eyes flickering between Eli and her skeptically as Hermione leaned down to press a kiss on the top of the now pouting blond boy's head before she skirted around the kitchen island to do the same to Teddy.

"See ya Sunday?" Hermione tilted her head as she backed away, snatching her beaded bag from the kitchen counter and hastily slinging it over her shoulder. Alarm bells were going off inside her head. She could see the confusion color E.M.'s big blue eyes, and she knew Ginny was beginning to put the puzzle pieces of her and Theo's hidden relationship together across the room. There'd been little hints over years: chance meetings, times they were both busy, and the looks they sometimes shared. Not to mention, sometimes Theo knew things about her that he shouldn't under normal circumstances—like the shape of the birthmark on her hip—but they'd always been able to explain it away.

Until now.

"I'm calling you later!" Ginny shouted across the room, eyes and smile wide with bubbling excitement, like she was seconds away from unwrapping the shiniest Christmas present under the tree.

"I'll be busy!"

"You better bloody answer, Hermione!"

"We'll see!" Backing out of the room, she blew a kiss to the pregnant woman. "Love you both!"

Spinning on her heel, she didn't wait for a reply as she made her exit, letting the front door slam on her way out. Her iPhone was already in her hand as she flew down the front steps. Flicking through her messages quickly, she closed out the conversation with Draco in favor of finding her other beau-of-sorts' thread.

**Code red! CODE FUCKING RED NOTT.**

_What is it this time? x_

**I just ran into your ex and Eli.**

_And this is problematic because? x_

_You see them all the time x_

**Because Eli might have just told an entire room full of people we met up last night.**

_Oh… x_

**Yeah 'oh…'**

_Any chance that room didn't consist of Ella-Mae & the Potters? x_

**You wish.**

_Bugger x_

**Enjoy pick up. **

_Gee. Thanks. x_

Loose gravel crunched beneath her flats as she made her way towards her MINI. Once safely inside the coupe, she let her head fall back against the headrest and her eyes drifted shut. It was stupid to think this wouldn't happen eventually. Two years was kind of an obscene amount of time to keep what they were doing a secret.

It wasn't like E.M. could protest, she and Theo gave up dating before Eli was even born, and while Harry might disapprove, it was her life, she could do as she pleased.

Surely if they had to come clean as a result of Eli's slip, it wouldn't be _that_ big of a deal… Would it?

…_buzz… buzz… _

_Hey! x_

_Real quick before you ignore me all evening in favour of hiding in your bath x_

**I will be eating my feelings ala Chunky Monkey and popcorn while I watch 90 Day Fiancé, thank you very much. **

_God that show is such rubbish. How is your brain not rotten yet? x_

**Didn't you have something to say? Or is judging my guilty pleasures all you wanted?**

_I stand by my previous statement, but… x_

_When can I see you again? x_

A laugh rushed from her lungs, and Hermione shook her head in disbelief. She'd just told him they were possibly outed, and knew he was literally hours away from spending the evening with his son and his boyfriend of what she wagered was nearly twenty years.

Biting her bottom lip, her thumbs paused over the screen.

She should feel guilty, right?

Knowing he was going to meet up with his significant other, but still had her on the brain.

She should feel bad.

**Friday? I've got plans tomorrow night.**

_Plans? Anyone I know? x_

**We agreed not to ask each other, remember?**

_Oh… THOSE sort of plans? x_

**Friday. Yes or no?**

_Pencil me in. x_

_Think of me when you're with him, Granger. I know I won't be able to stop thinking about you until then. x_

Fuck it. She already had a front row ticket to hell. Why not make the most of it?

**I'll do my best… I dunno, he's pretty great**

**If you know what I mean. ::winking emoji::**

* * *

She had successfully navigated Ginny and Harry away from all Nott-related topics during their nightly chat. It was a great feat, frankly, one she ought to win a fucking Oscar for. She didn't like lying to them, but sometimes it was necessary, and this certainly qualified as one of those occasions.

The night was spent in the comfort of her own condo, eating what Harry lovingly referred to as her adult Lunchable. Cheese and crackers, despite his insistence, _was _a meal, and just so happened to be one of her go-to's as of late. She hardly had time to shop for groceries, let alone cook an actual dinner.

It was just her and Crooks. Why bother dirtying up what felt like a thousand dishes just for one shitty meal and some leftovers? It was much easier to pull out that trusty blue Ikea cutting board, a dull knife, some twelve dollar cheese from Trader Joe's and pita chips and call it done.

"Ow!" Pulling her hand back, Hermione shook out her fingers, eyes narrowing on the aged orange fluff-ball that sat beside her on the couch, now happily chewing a small piece of cheese he'd taken from her fingers. "Slow down, asshole."

Crookshanks didn't react beyond the expectant glassy eyed blink as he noisily chewed.

She could practically hear her best friend's judgmental snap. _'I told you to stop giving him snacks.'_ As a man without pets, he hardly seemed like the best person to lecture her on how to raise an animal she'd had for ten years. But now, as she inspected the accidental nip on her fingers, she wondered if he was right.

Feeding him by hand was clearly dangerous.

She really ought to have gotten Crooks his own plate.

Just as she pressed on the pad of her finger, making sure his teeth didn't prick her enough to bleed, the high pitched brring of her phone cut over the ambient noise of Love After Lockup, her latest reality TV addiction.

It was nearly eleven at night, which meant something was up with one of the Potters, or one of her team members was phoning in sick. She wasn't really prepared to deal with either in her current state. Snatching the remote from the cushion beside her, she jammed the mute button before leaning forward to snatch her iPhone as it buzzed its way across her coffee table.

_Hot Brit #2 _flashed across the screen, except it wasn't a black background. No, the image behind his name reflected her own make-up free, freshly showered face.

Fuck.

Draco wanted to FaceTime and she still had her hair in a towel.

Setting her feet on the floor, she quickly yanked the ratty cloth from her head. Using the phone's reflection, she adjusted the still wet curls to appear at least semi-controlled before she leaned back on the couch, trying to give off the illusion of being calm, cool, and collected.

Which was basically everything she never claimed to be.

Her screen blinked as she accepted his call, the familiar three chimes rang, indicating the connection was being made, and she ran her tongue across her lips.

They had only texted a couple hours ago, confirmation for tomorrow's dinner at a noodle house just up the road from her condo. It was far from the theatrics of their first date, but with any luck, she was hoping she could convince him to come over for a nightcap at her place—she had absolutely zero ulterior motives…

Okay, maybe just a few if she was being honest with herself, but hoping for a repeat of their first night together wasn't being too presumptuous! She needed to see if he was as gifted as she remembered. It was her civic duty at this point! Inquiring minds (read: Ginny) _needed_ to know and who was she to deny them?

Draco's image burst to life on her phone. She could make out his features and blond hair as damp as her own hanging across his forehead in an artful swoop that was really unfair. He was shirtless. His bare chest and shoulders hugged the edges of the phone screen and she could just make out the twinkle of city lights in the darkness behind him.

"Well, hello." Less charming that she'd hoped, but the greeting slipped from her tongue before she could reassess.

He was outside, possibly on some sort of porch or balcony. His smile widened and his eyes seemed to brighten as she came into focus on his end. "You're up."

"It appears so." Settling back on her couch, she lifted her feet to rest on the edge of her coffee table as she lifted her arm up to give Draco less of an opportunity to see her double chin. "What's up?"

He lifted a cigarette to his lips, and her expression must have given away her surprise, because he let out a breathy little chuckle, puffs of white smoke slipping across his lips. "Ahh… Yes, I forgot. You don't know all my bad habits yet. Sorry."

"Don't apologize for being yourself. While smoking is not my favorite, it's hardly my place to tell you what to do."

"I wasn't apologizing for smoking, love." He took another slow drag from the cigarette, the ember growing bright red in stark contrast to the inky blackness of his background. "Rather, I am about to disappoint you."

He said it like he was familiar with being the bad guy, like he lived in a world where he was constantly inadequate, and despite herself, her heart strings thrummed. God, she'd been there. She'd spent years under that same self-deprecating cloud, and the familiarity made her both hate herself and long to wrap her arms around him in a tight hug to make it at least a little more bearable.

"Oh?"

"I'm afraid I need to reschedule our date."

Oh… shit. A gush of disappointment spread, tightening an invisible band across her chest as the weight of her own self-doubt quivered under its pressure. It was innate, her sudden instinct to blame this last minute cancelation on her own flaws.

Had she said something wrong?

Was she expecting too much?

Sure, they'd talked all week, and things _seemed _to be going well, but maybe she read too much into his friendly demeanor.

Maybe he wasn't interested anymore since they'd already slept together. Maybe he'd already gotten what he wanted and was ready to move on to his next conquest.

Sitting up, she tried to gulp down the lump born of both discontent and self-doubt. She was never really good at masking her emotions. Her mother would often remind her of this growing up, and since her passing, Harry seemed to unknowingly carry on that particular torch. Her lips pulled down in the slightest hint of a frown and her forehead wrinkled.

"I know this is shite timing and I'm sorry. My childcare plans just fell through—hence the late night call."

"Here I was thinking you just wanted to see my face." That's right. Forced sarcasm was always the best alternative to discussing real feelings. It was her signature move, after all.

"Well, I _do_ want to see you—preferably in person." He took another quick drag and blew the smoke into the night sky before snuffing out the cigarette in a dish off camera. His hand immediately found his hair, fingers carding through the platinum locks as he began to walk. "You look sore."

"I'm not mad."

"Disappointed?"

"Maybe a little." Crookshanks hopped up beside her, meowing loudly upon his approach as he cozied up beside her to rub his fuzzy head against her arm. "But not mad. I get it."

"Do you?" The sound of the glass door sliding shut was subtle and she assumed he'd moved inside of his Airbnb. "I'm really sorry. I was looking forward to Ramen, you know?"

"But not to seeing me?" Okay… she _might _be digging a little. Sue her.

Draco's lips quirked on the grainy screen and she watched as he navigated through the living room, catching glimpses of the smartly decorated rental behind him. "I feel like that's a given, but if you need some reassurance, I am happy to oblige."

"You really ought to, my heart is a bit wounded."

"I was looking forward to seeing you again, Hermione." The breathy laughter that lined his words was charming, giving him an almost care-free sort of vibe, which felt light years away from his despondency moments earlier. It seemed their playful banter was able to bring forth a much more relaxed, perhaps even better, version of himself. "Truly."

As was she. Since they'd made plans at the beginning of the week, she'd eagerly awaited being in his orbit once more. It wasn't just the sex—though, she wouldn't get ahead of herself, because _that_ absolutely had an impact on her disappointment. But she also enjoyed just being around him. Talking to him. Getting to know _him._

This was three months of fun. A mere ninety days of care-free dating. The kind where she actually got to have fun instead of worrying about every single detail. She could go back to the _real_ sort of dating once Draco was back in England because lord only knew her window of viability on being an ideal candidate was fading just as rapidly as her trim waistline.

But maybe there was the slight, teeny, tiny, twinkling tint of hope that lingered in the back of her mind every time he playfully mentioned whisking her back to England with him. Maybe the stuttering of her heart each time he mentioned wanting to show her something in London wasn't just random heart palpitations. Maybe, just maybe, she had a shot at something _real_ with him.

Maybe…

"You know… I _am _pretty good with kids." Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip as her head cocked to the side, something akin to hope and apprehension filling her mind as she watched him process her hint with raised brows. "It doesn't have to be a thing—like a real date. We could just… ya know, meet up somewhere with your son… If you want to, of course! Totally no pressure or anything."

He flicked off the light in the room, and for a moment, the screen was shrouded in darkness, leaving her entirely unable to assess if she'd pushed too far. Her heartbeat increased, anxiety dripping in her veins like an IV of morphine, the slow creeping cold starting at her toes and working up her legs until it hit her stomach.

"Draco?"

"Sorry—I was just thinking."

She could hear the squeak of a bedframe, and a soft click before warm light filled the room from what appeared to be a bedside lamp. The camera came back into focus, revealing his handsome face once more as he leaned back on a padded headboard.

"I'm sorry, that was probably forward of—"

"No, no, it's not that." His head shook as he cut her off, carding his fingers through his hair again. "I was just thinking of logistics… I'm still not good at navigating the city and I just didn't know where we could all go. That's all. The mall is rather cliché, and truth be told, not ideal for a four-year-old."

Almost immediately, the fear and self-doubt slipped away as a bubble of excitement burst inside her like an overfilled party balloon. It was all she could do to not let out a rather unadult squeal.

"Okay… he's four. Right. I know the perfect spot."

"Do you have much experience with four-year-olds? I seem to remember your friend's son being quite a bit older." He tipped his chin down, looking at her over the bridge of his nose with an air of disbelief.

"_Pfft_, are you kidding me? Of course I do." She waved off his question, pulling her feet up onto the couch as she tipped back on the cushions to lay down. Rolling onto her stomach, she let the phone rest against the arm of the couch, making sure she had an optimal angle before she wedged her hand under her chin. "I met Teddy when he was six—which I understand isn't four, but I do have a friend with a four-year-old and he absolutely adores me."

"The son or your friend?"

"Both," she answered without a hint of hesitation, partially because it was true, but mainly because she liked to see that toothy smile that spread across his features when he tipped his head back in laughter. "I _am _basically the coolest, you know?"

"You are pretty high on my list. Right alongside James Bond and the late great Freddy Mercury."

"Considering only one of them is a real person, I will take that as a compliment."

"As you should, but I'd like to point out, while he is fictitious, Mr. Bond is arguably the coolest spy."

"Keyword there is arguably. I am more of a Bourne fan myself, when forced to choose."

"Oh wow… This might be the first thing I don't like about you." Draco put a hand on his chest, slowly shaking his head in mock disbelief.

"There had to be something, right? I couldn't be completely perfect or you might never leave the U.S."

"You are rather tempting."

Stupid butterflies. They needed to go away. They were doing her no favors in the shameless flirting department.

"So, we're on for tomorrow, then?"

He slipped down his headboard until his head hit the pillows. She couldn't help but smile when he mirrored her movements, propping his phone up before pulling the thick white comforter around his torso and settling into his bed. "I don't know… I mean—"

"Look, I get it if you'd rather not, _honestly_, but I swear I'm good with kids… Like the best. And it could just be casual. I won't even try to hold your hand or anything."

"You'd be okay with just hanging out?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" Her shoulders rose and fell in a small shrug. "You're fun to be around, and… I mean, as satisfying as the other stuff was, I still enjoyed your company."

Draco nodded, lips pursing at the corners, and even through her phone's small screen, she could practically see his mind whirling over the possibilities, trying to assess if it was a good idea or not for her to meet his offspring. "Okay. Just hanging out though."

"Perfect!" Had she been any less hopeless, she might have been able to keep the soft squeak of excitement from her voice, but she'd clearly given up the guise of appearing cool and aloof with him ages ago. "There's a nice park off Senter and Story. We can meet there and let him play for a little before heading to dinner."

Draco nodded, chin falling into his palm as he propped himself up on his elbow. "Alright. Four still work?"

"I should be able to swing it. I can text you if anything changes." Reaching out, she tapped on the phone's screen, returning the timestamp to the corner as she let out a heavy breath. It was nearing midnight, and as much as she wanted to continue, she did have an early meeting to attend. She was certain if she was late, Queenie would murder her. "I should probably go."

"Already?"

"Unfortunately, not all of us are on… What do you guys call it? Holiday?"

"Yeah, that's it." Draco picked up his phone, rolling onto his back so his blond hair spread across the white pillow case. "Although, I'd like to point out that _technically _I am working while I'm here."

"Working remotely doesn't count, Draco."

"And I still don't understand why you think that."

Hermione scoffed. "Because if you can watch porn without shame while working, then it's not real work."

"Ha!" He let out a sharp laugh, wide smile once more spreading across his features, and she could see a light tint of pink on his cheeks. "Did you put spyware on my phone or something?"

"Hardly. You're a man, I know how your kind works." Pushing up on the cushion, Hermione picked up her phone, holding it aloft with one hand as she grabbed her half-eaten plate of cheese and crackers from the coffee table. "On that note, I think I should probably let you go."

"Okay, but... one more thing."

"Yeah?"

He hesitated, a twinkle of mischief coloring his eyes for just a second before he spoke. "The other night was satisfying?"

She almost dropped the plate, a loud burst of unlady-like laughter bubbling up her throat as a warm blush crept over her cheeks and she shook her head. "Goodnight, Draco."

"Is that a yes?" he pressed, a single brow arching. "That's a yes, right? Clearly a yes."

"Good night."

"Night, Hermione."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

For those non-American folks, Monster Jam is a Monster Truck show that travels around major US cities. It's pretty much filled with young kids and their respective parents/caregivers. Imagine an outdoor stadium that's very loud due to engine sounds, popcorn, stale beer, and loads of cotton candy. That's Monster Jam.

Thanks you for all the follows, likes, kudos, reviews & recommendations. You are all amazing.

Follow me on Tumblr Msmerlin-black & find me on Facebook MsMerlin Eff.

Until next time. xx


	8. Chapter 8

Hermione spent a questionable amount of time that morning fretting about an outfit. Not the sensible pair of trousers, blouse, and blazer she'd selected for work. No, it was the outfit she'd painstakingly combed her closet for, and then folded so there would be no obvious wrinkles, before tucking it into a small satchel alongside her emergency make up kit.

Yet, despite the agonizing amount of time she'd spent waffling between the plain black v-neck and the floral button down blouse, she was suddenly regretting her rather bold decision to opt for a dress instead of jeans.

Jeans were her comfort zone. If she could get away with wearing them to work, she was certain her wardrobe would only consist of dark wash denim.

But she was here, in front of a playground absolutely brimming with children, wearing a maroon long sleeve shirt dress, a plaid black and cream scarf (which may or may not actually belong to Ginny), and a pair of ankle booties. At the time, she'd thought it was casually adorable. But now? Well, now she felt rather over dressed for a fucking date at a park—with a kid.

_Walking down the path now._

_What are you wearing?_

**Clothes.**

_Are you always this difficult? Or is this a rare treat reserved for me?_

**My mother always did say I was a sassy child. **

_You clearly never outgrew that._

**But you clearly enjoy it, seeing as you came back.**

_I refuse to confirm nor deny that._

**Uh huh. ::wink emoji::**

Sarcasm.

Her second language.

Truth be told, she didn't even realize how dry her humor was anymore. At first it was part of her defense mechanism when it came to navigating life. But now it seemed innate, like she possessed no other way of operating beyond barbed words and dark humor.

Shifting her weight between her feet, her left hip popped out as she lifted her eyes from her phone to scan the park around her nervously, hoping to catch sight of a bright pop of blond hair in the sea of people around her.

For a Friday afternoon, the place was far busier than she'd expected. It had been a number of months since she'd taken Teddy here, and she definitely did not remember there being this many fucking people meandering about. A quick (and possibly unfair) assessment felt like it was mainly fathers—perhaps single dads spending a nice fall evening with their kids. If that was her sort of thing (which in all fairness, it was beginning to look like it might be), this park would appear to be a proverbial hunting ground.

Had she not already been juggling two men, she might've made a note to revisit, but thoughts of adding a third man to her line up were nowhere near her consciousness. Unless, of course, one of these handsome devils also happened to be British… in which case, she couldn't very well pass up the opportunity for some ear candy, now could she?

Her phone buzzed beneath her fingers, pulling her attention away from scanning the crowd and back down to the device clutched in her right hand.

_You should wear dresses more often._

_You've got great legs._

Her cheeks heated as a toothy smile lifted her lips and, like the school-girl she clearly still was (because honestly, who still blushed like an idiot at a compliment?), she began to chew on her bottom lip as she fired off her reply.

**I'll keep that in mind for our next date.**

_So I'll get a third?_

**If you're lucky.**

"Minnie?"

Her brow furrowed, head snapping up as the familiar voice carried over the ambient noise of the park, cutting right through the flurry of giddy that had filled her at the prospect of seeing Draco.

"Minnie!"

The butterflies that had just begun to tickle up her esophagus fell away as if they'd transformed into lead and dropped into the pit of her stomach. A cold trickle of what she could only assume was fear snaked down her spine as she looked around for the source of the noise.

There were only two little boys on this entire planet who called her by that nickname. Two little boys who got away with using it because lord only knew she absolutely _hated_ nicknames and only one of them was old enough to no longer possess a speech impediment.

"Minnie! Over here!"

Once adorable, the name now sounded like nails on a chalkboard. This wasn't happening—it _couldn't _be happening. She knew Friday nights were Theo's nights with Eli, which meant she wasn't going to find the adorable little four-year-old accompanied by a tall, leggy blonde. For the first time ever, Hermione wished that wasn't the fucking case. She would take E.M. in this situation right now over Theo, because at least she could explain away what she was doing without needing to lie.

Her eyes flicked from child to child as excuses for why she was here roved through her mind.

She felt like a walk.

She had a thing for monkey-bars.

She just really liked the dulcet tones of screaming children.

Each one that she came up with felt more stupid than the last. There was no socially acceptable reason for a grown adult _without_ children to be at the park, let alone one dressed in a date night outfit.

Though, she didn't _need_ an excuse, did she?

She wasn't exactly dating Theo.

Fucking? Yes.

But he'd never pursued her as anything more which meant she was free to meet up with anyone she so chose and he couldn't say a damn thing about because she was single and… Well, he'd made it very clear he wasn't interested in more.

She found Eli moving down the footpath towards her, his little legs already broken into a full sprint. His dark green eyes were wide with unrepressed happiness, dimpled cheeks already pink from the combination of nippy weather and his exertion. His dirty blond hair flounced with each hurried footfall, little black and white converse slapping the pavement as he drew closer. He only narrowly avoided running over other children in his mission to make it to her. "Miiiinnie!"

Hermione began moving towards the boy, unable to help the smile that quirked the corner of her lips as she knelt low to scoop up Eli as soon as he was within arm's reach. "Eli! What are you doing here, Bub?" Her lips pressed into his cheek, leaving just a hint of lip-gloss coating his pink skin as she propped him on her hip. "Where's your dad?"

His thin arms looped around her neck, little fingers already toying with the broken ends of her curls as they hung loosely against her shoulders. She had yet to break him of that habit—not that she ever would. Teddy still did the same damn thing after three years. "Daddy's at work." Lifting a hand, Eli shielded his brow with his palm as he looked back over his shoulder. "I'm here with Mylo. We're meeting a new friend!"

Mylo? What the fuck was a Mylo?

His arm extended, pointer finger guiding a path directly across the area she'd met Eli and towards the footpath where a tall, platinum blond man stood scanning the crowd with a heavy set brow and a frown that screamed _'Oh shit, I just lost my kid'_.

"Oh fuck."

_Draco_.

Her world came to a halt, and for about ten seconds, the entire noise of the park was drowned out by the sound of her pulse thumping in her ears. Except this sudden heart palpitation wasn't the result of cupid's arrow or some other bullshit.

No, god no.

It was because, if her life wasn't already fucking complicated enough, the fact that the man she was crushing on, the same handsome stranger on a three month vacation who hadn't left her mind since they'd begun talking two short weeks ago, was also her fuck-buddy's long term boyfriend.

It was because in an area of seven million people—_seven fucking million souls_—she'd managed to not only find, but also _fuck_, two of the most emotionally unavailable men on the planet.

If this wasn't some sort of sick joke on behalf of whatever deity ruled the heavens, she didn't know what was.

Just as quickly as the world narrowed on Draco and the inadvertent connection they held beyond a chance meeting at Supercuts, it opened back up with a rush and a loud, raucous burst of laughter. It burst from her depths and broke forth into the atmosphere.

This was absolutely one of those _'if I don't laugh, I might fucking cry'_ moments, and truthfully, she didn't think that was out of the question.

"Elijah?" Draco's frown lines deepened as he searched the crowd with growing anxiety and that seemed to be enough for Eli to wiggle down from Hermione's hold.

His little hand found hers and he threaded their fingers together. "Come on!" He tugged her after him with a surprising amount of strength, navigating her through the crowd towards his guardian for the evening. "You'll meet Da and our new friend!" He navigated them across the seating area and called out to Draco as they drew close.

Gray eyes softened at the sight of Eli, but the relief was short lived, because the moment they traveled to her, a deep, consuming wave of confusion colored his storm cloud eyes. Draco was casual today, opting for a pair of light wash jeans, a plaid button down, and a rather smart looking windbreaker that appeared to be monogrammed with some sort of crest. He was definitely going for 'young father' chic and pulling it off rather well. "Uh… Elijah what are—"

"Mylo, this is Minnie!" Eli proudly tugged Hermione closer so he could put his head on her hip. "She's Daddy's friend—and my friend, too! We play games and sometimes she stays the night, but usually leaves before the sun says good morning."

Oh god.

Oh god.

_Oh god._

She was going to puke.

She was going to puke on a small, adorable four-year-old.

Draco nodded slowly, his hand curling noticeably tighter around the Eli-sized jacket he was clutching and she watched his adam's apple run the column of this throat. The confusion that clouded his eyes began to lift, and she watched the wheels within his mind churn and whizz as everything began to snap together just as it had for her a mere moment ago.

She could sense incoming panic—and perhaps a bit of disbelief—but instead of bursting into unexplainable laughter as she had, Draco's face began to drain of color and the frown that had tugged his lips lifted into an apathetic line.

There were two things she could do: fight or flight. The basic human instincts weighed on her mind as if on opposite sides of Lady Justice's scale. On one hand, she could give Draco an out, come up with some excuse to run away and never _ever _text him again. She could delete his number and pretend like none of this happened and continue on about her life.

But that would be _far_ too easy.

Something Hermione was one hundred percent not, unless she considered it in the bedroom sort of sense, in which case, yes, she did fuck on the first date—thank you very much.

Giving Eli's hand a gentle squeeze, Hermione pulled the rambunctious little blond's attention back to her before she knelt down, bare knee digging into the cement pad. "Hey, can you do me a favor, Bub?" She smoothed out the collar of his little navy polo against his collarbone before tugging the hem of his shirt down.

Eli's little face scrunched, nose wrinkling. "What?"

"Can you give Mylo and I a moment to talk?" Looking up from her kneel, she motioned to the jacket, snapping and pointing at Draco's hand until the dumb-struck man was pulled back to reality. She took the jacket from him and slipped it onto Eli's shoulders. "Grown up stuff, ya know? _Boring_ stuff." Threading the zipper, she pulled it up until it sat in the center of his chest. "You can try the rock wall. I've heard you're getting pretty good at it."

"I am! I can reach the top now, you know?"

"What? No way!" Hermione slapped her hands against her thighs, giving the little boy a small head shake in disbelief, hoping goading him into showing off would afford her enough time to enact the slow-forming plan in her mind. "There's no way you're big enough."

"Yeah-huh! Mama showed me how." His little chest puffed out with pride. "Watch!"

And just like that, he was off, little legs carrying him as quickly as they could across the busy playground towards the small rock wall that was congregated with children a good couple years ahead of Eli.

"Hermione I—"

She lifted a finger to silence Draco, watching, waiting, until Eli was very much out of ear shot before she stood up, hands brushing the bits of rubble from her knee. She didn't lift her eyes or turn towards him, nor demand an explanation. She didn't snap or freak out. No. Hermione did the one thing that was probably inadvisable considering how fucking absurd her life was presently.

She withdrew her iPhone from her purse.

"How do you—"

"Just a second."

"Hermione I—"

"Seriously, shh!"

Scrolling through her phonebook, she glanced out of the corner of her eye, watching as Draco nervously ran his hand across the back of his neck like some boy with his hand caught in the cookie jar—or in this case, his dick.

Her thumb swept across her screen, past Ginny, Harry, and E.M. It swept past the programmed numbers for her parents she couldn't quite bring herself to delete, even years later, and even past the number for her OBGYN.

Draco huffed—actually fucking huffed—like an upset little boy, his growing anxiety lifting his tone. "What are you—"

"You're _really_ not good at waiting, are you?"

"_I'm_ not good? I believe you're the one who—"

Opening the contact, she quickly jammed her thumb over the FaceTime button before lifting up her phone, purposefully cutting off Draco with the admittedly rude gesture. The distinct chime emanated from her phone softly over the ambient noise of screaming children. Pressing her thumb against the side button, she raised the volume past the socially acceptable level as she waited.

Her image burst to life on her camera, each trill of rings making her heart rate increase a little as she began to rethink her plan. She pressed her lips into a line, shifting nervously between her feet, and tucked her hair behind her ears, silently thanking God that at least today was a good hair day.

"Hey, Granger. I can't really talk right now. What's up? Everything alright?"

Theo's image filled her screen, dark hair quaffed into perfection, still dressed in a suit. Based on the pristinely packed bookshelf behind him, he was at work, which clearly explained why Draco had Eli. He didn't even bother glancing up from his laptop. He'd likely opened the application on his MacBook mid-revision on whatever contract Netflix was having him draft that day.

"Oh, yeah! Everything's fine!" Her voice was saccharine, possibly too so, and she cleared her throat in an attempt to level out the bubbling anxiety and tension that had built inside. "It's just… Well… Look who I just ran into!"

She shifted around, spinning in front of the awkwardly quiet Draco until he appeared just over her shoulder in the frame. Theo's dark eyes flicked across his screen and he did a literal double-take at her image. Snatching his readers off his face, they dropped off camera as he pulled the laptop closer in one fluid motion.

"Draco?" His brow set, eyes narrowing on the box, and she could hear him double click the trackpad to expand the video call on his screen.

"And Eli. But he's a bit tied up on the rock wall at the moment."

"Ah, of course. Is he showing you he can make it to the top without help?"

Hermione nodded and she looked past her phone to the climbing structure in question to make sure Eli hadn't fallen off the four foot wall. "Yep. He was very eager to show off."

"Ella-Mae thinks it's good for him—never mind the fact the climb wall clearly states it's for ages six and up."

"Ehh. He'll be fine. What's the worst that could happen?"

"A sprained wrist. A concussion. A broken arm. The possibilities are _literally_ endless."

"Eh, flesh wounds are no big deal."

"Says the woman who cried over a skinned knee."

"First off, that was _not _a skinned knee. It was fucking rug burn—which, I would like to point out, was entirely _your_ fault, and it wasn't just my knees, asshole. You got it on my hands, too!" The punches were thrown, and based on the way Theo's eyes widened in momentary panic at her purposeful slip, she very much doubted he had divulged who she was to his partner. Well, that and the way Draco promptly stiffened.

"Heh… Right, uh… So, what are you doing at a park anyway?" Smooth. Change of subject. Yep, he was clearly on the same level of denial as her.

Hermione swept her tongue across her lips and glanced over her shoulder to look at Draco, whose cheeks began to tint pink in his awkward silence, before she looked back at the camera. "Meeting up with that one guy."

"That… one guy?" Theo repeated slowly, as if the words had turned to molasses on his tongue. "Like, from the other night?"

"Uh-huh."

"The... date one?"

"Yep."

"Oh, fuck."

"Funny enough, I said the _exact_ same thing." Hermione clucked her tongue before her mouth pulled in an awkward grimace. If tension were physical, she could have scooped up the energy that flowed from both men. She watched their eyes meet on her phone screen, an unspoken conversation was being had, and she briefly wondered if she ought to have gone about this whole thing differently.

Seconds ticked by, with only the sound of children's screams of laughter filling the stiffening silence, and it was Draco who finally had enough courage to speak up. He cleared his throat, hand moving to rub the back of his neck. "Uh… I… I should… We really ought to… _Oh, bugger._" His eyes slammed shut and he moved his hand across his face, thumb and forefinger pressing into his eyes as he took a deep breath, clearly trying to compose himself. Even though she'd only known Draco for fourteen days, she had already gained the sense that he was not a man of few words. And, judging by the way Theo shifted nervously in his chair, Draco's sudden tongue-tie was very much out of character.

"I should probably take Elijah back to your place, Theodore." His hand dropped, falling lamely to his side.

"I'll leave work now. I can finish this contract review from home." Theo gave a tight-lipped nod, his hands steepling under his chin.

"_Actually_"—again, with the very bad, no-good-will-come-of-this ideas—"why don't you reach out to E.M. and see if she can watch Eli tonight so we can _all _sit down and… Oh, I don't know... talk about what happened?" Her shoulders lifted in a small shrug before she glanced over her shoulder for a quick peek at Draco.

He seemed almost taken aback, confusion sparkling in the silver lining of his irises and she had to physically stop herself from reaching out to touch his hand—to let him know that while, yes, this was absolutely fucking unbelievable, she wasn't _mad,_ nor was she judging him—_them_—unfairly.

They were all adults.

She valued her friendship with Theo—and, you know, their bedroom activities, too.

She wasn't going to risk mucking that up over a small case of _'Hey, I accidentally slept with your boyfriend'._ No, they were adults. They could discuss what happened like rational people and figure out how they could move forward from there.

Because clearly something needed to change—or end—or… _something_.

"Granger… Are you sure?"

"_Absolutely not_." If she was anything, she was honest. At least that was one truth that could be etched into her tombstone when she died of system shock. "But it seems like the adult thing to do." Forcing a smile, she let it brighten her eyes, trying to convey a calm, cool, and collected Hermione as opposed to the internally flailing mess she actually was. "Just come over and we'll talk… or drink. Probably both."

"I vote both." Draco lifted his brows, eyes falling to stare holes into the toes of his sneakers.

"A-alright. Give me like… two hours." Theo's fingers were in his hair, ruining his put-together image and his free hand was already working the knot of his tie loose.

"See ya then." Pressing the red button, Theo's image blinked from her screen and she tucked her phone back into her purse as she turned to face the blond who had yet to look directly at her since the initial surprise hit.

To say this threw a wrench into her plans was an understatement. She'd planned on having a good evening—albeit one without fantastic sex—but still, a good one. And now? Well, now it seemed instead of getting to know Draco and furthering their budding relationship, she might be ending it.

Hermione scanned the playground, finding Eli otherwise occupied with the other children surrounding the rock wall. Knowing he couldn't see them, she reached out and brushed her fingers across his, letting her fingertips trace the deep valleys of his palm. "Hey… It's alright." Was it? She honestly couldn't tell, but saying it felt like the right thing to do at the moment. "It's fine… _honest._"

Draco nodded, slowly lifting his eyes to lock with hers and the maelstrom of self-loathing, worry, and bashfulness nearly took her breath away. He was upset, but not for any of the reasons he should be. He was upset because his secret was out. He was upset because she _knew_ he was in an open relationship with a man.

She'd known Theo's partner was closeted, but this… this shame that clouded his eyes… Well, that was more heartbreaking than anything else.

Biting her bottom lip, she felt a lump form in her throat as she watched what felt like years of self-loathing bubble to the surface. Far from the bold, charming man she'd met, before her stood a broken person, someone so clearly beat down by society that he'd rather hide this part of himself.

She'd never know if it was impulse, or perhaps her stupidity that made her do it, but before she could process exactly what it meant, she was on her tippy toes, a hand curled around his sharp jaw, and she was guiding his lips against hers in a gentle kiss.

He stiffened beneath her touch initially, as if afraid this was a trap, but the moment her mouth swept over his, he seemed to relax. His hands found her waist, fingers fanned wide around her hips in an almost possessive hold—like he was afraid to let go or else he'd drown in whatever waters of self-despair he'd created for himself.

Her nose gently nudged his before their foreheads met and she could feel each strained breath that filled his lungs. "It's going to be alright." Her thumb swept across his shaven cheek as she pressed kiss after gentle kiss against his perfectly pouted lips. "You're fine… I'm fine… Theo's… Well, maybe not _fine_, but he's at least sane."

His breath puffed against her mouth as he laughed, and she could feel a bit of the tension slip from his frame. His fingers flexed at her sides, and he guided her body closer until his arms could wrap around her as his face dropped to tuck in her neck.

Her arms moved around his shoulders, a hand smoothing over the back of his hair, petting down the impossibly soft locks as she held him against her in what appeared to be a much needed hug. Physical intimacy aside, it was clear Draco was not as put together as his outward appearance would suggest. If having some small bit of background on his and Theo's relationship was any indication, he was probably the most broken of the three of them—which was quiet a fucking feat considering she was an orphan and Theo was living a literal ocean away from his family by choice.

She pressed a kiss at his temple, eyes peeking over the top of his head to search out Eli, who was still surrounded by his new friends on the playground and appeared to be mid-way through a rather riveting game of dinosaur. "Okay." She patted his shoulder, gently dislodging herself from his embrace and she smiled up at him, fingers fixing the blond fringe that had fallen across his forehead. "I'm going to go. Give Eli ten more minutes, then take him through the Chick-Fil-A drive-thru on the way home—grilled nuggets and fruit. He'll tell you he wants the waffle fries but he won't eat them."

"H-how do you know?"

"Because I wasn't lying when I said I was good with kids, idiot." She smoothed her hand across her stomach as she took a step back, putting some much needed space between the two of them. If she didn't leave now, lord only knows she would stay wrapped in his arms until Ella-Mae or Theo showed up. "Tell him I'm sorry I didn't say bye and I'll… I'll see you in a couple of hours."

Draco nodded, gulping thickly as he watched her begin to back away, her hand already in her purse, searching out her keyfob. "Wait." He closed the distance once more, hand curling around her neck, fingers dipping into her curls as he pulled her back for one more desperate kiss. It felt as if he was trying to prove the feelings he held for her were genuine and not some farce.

She could feel her resolve melt under his demanding lips, and her fingers curled around his wrists lamely. How she'd managed to get herself in this mess was impressive—like she really ought to consider giving classes on 'Fuck Up Your Love Life 101' because it was in that moment that could finally name those pesky butterflies that burst to life inside of her.

It wasn't love—no, fuck that.

But she did like him.

_Like-liked_ him. Like maybe possibly enough to consider trying the long-distance date thing.

And that would absolutely positively _not_ work. He already had one long-distance partner.

Pulling back, Hermione gently eased his hands off her body and she smiled up at him nervously, her stomach twisting in knots. "Couple hours?"

"Yeah."

"Okay… Remember, fruit and grilled nuggets."

"He won't eat the chips." Draco parroted her earlier words with a small nod as he began to walk backwards towards the play structure. "I got it."

"Good." She took one final deep breath, holding it in her lungs as she spun on her heel to begin her escape. It was only once she was out of earshot, a few yards from the parking lot, that she let herself process the overwhelming emotions that built up over the course of the last twenty minutes. Her body trembled, fingers quivering around her keyfob, and she made it into the safety of her MINI before she let it wash over her.

Laughter or tears.

Laughter _or_ tears.

It was always one or the other, and in that moment, it finally felt appropriate to let the latter fall.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

OH MY GOD IT'S HAPPENING!

okay, sorry. haha! I know some of you guess as to how this would all being to come together and for those who figured out the connection, good job! ;) Let's see what happens when they all finally end up in the room together!

until next time xx


	9. Chapter 9

When did she get so many damn throw pillows?

She couldn't even remember purchasing half of them and suddenly she has six!—wait, no. _Seven!_ Seven random pillows adorned her lumpy, hand-me-down couch that suddenly felt far too shabby for company.

"Two years?! You've been sleeping with Theodore Nott for _two years _and you never fucking told me!?" If her neighbors weren't aware of the comings and goings of her love life before, they certainly were now. "Hermione Jean Granger, how _dare_ you! I thought we were friends."

"Yeah!" Harry's booming voice cut over his wife. "Best friends are supposed to tell each other these sorts of things, 'Mione."

"I know—trust me, _I know, _but can you guys spare me the lecture this one time and just talk me off a ledge?" Hermione grimaced, tossing her phone on the couch cushion to put distance between the boom from her speaker phone as she went to work fluffing the pillows into submission, arranging, and then rearranging them once she determined they were out of order by color.

By her clock, she had less than twenty minutes to get her living room in order before Theo and Draco showed up. Lord only knew she was woefully unprepared for visitors. Her stop at Trader Joe's to grab wine took far longer than anticipated thanks to the tattooed hipster mom who asked far too many questions about the ingredients in their hummus. News flash, it was chickpeas, and no, the underpaid employees could not confirm whether they were organically grown or not.

"Help? Hermione, I'm not certain you need any help. You have two good-looking men showing up to your flat! It sounds like you need an icepack and Motrin more than fucking moral support, my friend." Ginny's snort was punctuated by a loud groan from Harry, who was likely smothering his face with his hands.

While yes, Harry was her best friend, and yes, he stuck by her through all her nonsense, this line seemed hard for him to wrap his head around. Would he support her? She knew he would—unquestionably—but he needed time to mentally (and physically) prepare for the type of moral support she needed.

"Not helpful, Ginn'!" Once the pillows were arranged just so, she walked around the open concept ground floor of her condo, snatching up the various bits of stray clothing that had accumulated in her living room and stuffing them all in a black Ikea storage bin she found sitting beside her couch.

"I'm just saying, this hardly sounds like a problem. Why on earth are you freaking out?"

"Uh… because I, unknowingly, mind you, slept with Theo's boyfriend!"

"Yeah, but you've been shagging Theo! Apparently for _two bloody years _now!" Theo's sexual proclivities were hardly a secret in their small group of friends. Though Ella-Mae never specifically spelled out the exact reason their relationship was doomed, it was common knowledge that his preference for non-monogamy was one of the numerous differences the once-couple couldn't make things work. "Speaking of which, can I just say I am genuinely surprised that he's bisexual. I would _never_ have pegged him as being interested in blokes."

Hermione paused her frantic cleaning and turned to look at the phone with a deep-set frown, as if Ginny could see how utterly absurd she was through the phone. "Ginn'… What the fuck are you talking about?" Tossing the pair of mismatched socks and bralette in the Ikea bin, she set it all beside the one remaining house plant she hadn't managed to murder this year.

"He just doesn't look bisexual is all."

"And what, pray tell, do bisexual people _look _like, Ginny?"

Silence.

More specifically, _awkward _silence.

She knew Ginny didn't mean for the statement to be unkind, but Hermione couldn't help but feel slightly defensive of Theo and Draco. Sure, she was nothing to them, and technically they were nothing to her, but she felt protective over the pair.

"Wow. Did I just turn into my mother?" Ginny let loose a heavy sigh and she could almost guarantee Harry was nodding his head enthusiastically (albeit silently) behind her. "Fuck I didn't mean it like that. You know that right?"

Grabbing the rogue group of Starbucks cups gathered on her end table, she tucked them against her torso, making sure not to spill any remaining coffee on her dress as she hurried across the room to drop them in her trash can. "Yeah… I do. Sorry, it's just—"

"No, no. You're right," Ginny rushed out, clearing her throat. "That was rude of me. Look, Theo's sexuality aside, how do you… How do you feel about this? About him?"

That question felt loaded.

Yes, Ginny was closer to Hermione than the leggy blonde, but this wasn't a fucking friendship competition. Ginny was Ella-Mae's friend. Regardless of how close they were, the fact remained that Ginny obviously enjoyed her company. Now that her and Theo's secret was out, it was going to make their friendly get togethers decidedly more awkward.

"Ehh… I'm not entirely sure how to answer that if I'm being honest."

"Go with your gut reaction." Ginny was just trying to help—trying to be a good friend—because lord knew Harry was still reeling from the bomb she'd dropped on them minutes earlier, but actually admitting her feelings for Theodore Nott wasn't going to fix any of this. On the contrary, it was likely going to make this decidedly more complicated. "Do you like him?"

Right. No allowing things like reason or logic to sway her mind. She could do this. _Gut reaction._

"Yes."

The word slipped off her tongue before she could even make the connection herself, and her footfall slowed to a halt, leaving her standing in the middle of her living room with her arms curled around the trash can she'd snagged from the kitchen like some sort of vagabond. "Yes, _but…"_

It was complicated.

He didn't _like _her—at least not like _that._

They'd been hooking up for two years and he'd never once asked for more! He clearly didn't return the same sort of affections.

"But?"

"But he's… He doesn't…" She struggled, making a plethora of odd noises as she tried to come up with a way to explain why things weren't as fucking simple as Ginny was making them out to be.

Things had always been easy for her. Ginny would never be able to understand the tangled mess Hermione presently found herself in. No, Ginny had been born into a big, loving family. She had literal oodles of siblings to look after her. She had found Harry early on and indulged in that sickeningly sweet dream that was the picture perfect teenage romance_—yuck!_ After graduating, she fell into a rather successful, albeit short lived, soccer career, and was now in the U.S. living like some trophy wife to her successful husband about to pop out their first biological kid.

Ginny never experienced dating in her twenties—let alone in her thirties.

She didn't know the stressors that came with finding _the one, _nor faced the very public backlash over being a career-driven woman. She never got into fights with Harry because she worked too late or too much. She never had to explain that her career mattered, and no, she wouldn't even think about giving it up if babies ever came along.

But moreover, Ginny never had to experience the sting to her heart that came with being rejected by a man she liked.

Sure, maybe young love's kiss had left her with skinned knees and bruises, but it would never compare to the gaping wounds that Hermione's previous relationships had carved into her very being. She had cuts that were still so raw and red, even all these years later. That didn't even include the emotional scars she still bore from losing her parents so young.

No.

Ginny would never know what it felt like to be broken and beat down. And as much as Hermione wanted to explain—to get her friend to even understand why liking Theodore Nott was not an option—she just _couldn't._ Not when she still struggled with the explanation herself.

"Hermione?" Ginny's voice cut through the line, dripping with concern for Hermione's sudden silence. "You okay?"

"It just wouldn't work." The lie felt easy. It was one she'd repeated countless times by now. "He's a nice guy, but no."

"Uh-huh… and his boyfriend? You like him?"

Wasn't it evident? She was fairly certain Ginny knew the answer to that question, but if she had to indulge her friend, so be it. "Yes."

"But that won't work either?"

"Obviously."

"So, then... What exactly _are _you doing? Having them over for a spot of tea? Talking to them about the bloody weather?" This is why she needed Ginny in her life. Where Harry was cautious and kind in his loving support, Ginny was no nonsense and to the point. She didn't mince words or sugarcoat anything. _This_ was precisely what she needed. "Seriously, Hermione? What is your game plan here? Because I think you honestly know the answer to your own dilemma but are refusing to acknowledge it because you're either a. stubborn or b. a bloody idiot."

Setting the trash can down in the middle of her living room, Hermione collapsed back on her mountain of throw pillows on the lumpy couch. Draping an arm dramatically over her eyes, she let out a groan. "I don't fucking know what I'm doing Ginn'! This is why I called you guys!" She knew her time was slipping away, and the frantic energy that had consumed her when she made the desperate call to the Potters seemed worse than before. "I just—_Fuck_! I don't know!"

"You want my advice?" Ginny waited approximately .02 seconds before continuing, because it was clearly understood that, _yes_, Hermione wanted her god damn advice—hence the reason for the call! "You obviously care for Theo and before you try to say you don't, it's fairly fucking obvious you do, so shut it. Anyways, you care for Theo. It's also obvious that you're interested in this new bloke, and given what we know about Theo's… What would you even call that? Kinks?"

"No, definitely not." Hermione wrinkled her nose, slowly dragging her arm off of her face to fall listlessly against the cushion. "Relationship preferences? Lifestyle choices?"

"Ugh… Look, we know that Theo's into dating multiple people—_sharing,_ if you will. And, well, to be quite blunt about this, Hermione, why not fucking give it a go? You're a consenting adult. If they both like you and are open to the idea, I honestly don't see what the big deal is."

Hermione quirked a brow as her eyes narrowed skeptically on the phone, letting her friend's words wash over her. She was expecting a lot of things out of this conversation, but _that_ was certainly not one of them. She snatched her iPhone off the couch and she took it off speaker phone before pressing the receiver against her ear. "I'm sorry, did you just say I should date _both _of them?"

"In more words, but yes."

"As in... At the same time?"

"I think that _is _generally how polyamorous relationships work, but I am far from an expert. You probably ought to discuss the logistics with Theo and his boyfriend."

"And you don't think it would be weird?"

"Being happy isn't weird, Hermione. It's called being human. And news flash, you're definitely not a robot."

The possibility of dating them _both_ hadn't even crossed her mind. She'd never considered the possibility of ending up in a polyamorous relationship. Why would she? But now that Ginny had planted the seed, Hermione was hard pressed to deny her rapidly growing curiosity.

What if that's why her other relationships never worked out?

What if she'd always craved _more_ without being aware of it?

What if this was a real possibility?

_Knock, Knock, Knock!_

Hermione jumped, a small squeak emanating up her throat and she pressed her hand into the center of her chest as she eyed the front door. Shit. They were here. _They were here!_ "Ginn' I got to go." Rising from the couch, she righted the pillows as best she could and grabbed the trash can. In a hurry, she shoved it back into place in her kitchen and scooped up the large stack of junk mail before tossing it all away.

"They're there?" Excitement replaced the slow, controlled logic from earlier, and Ginny let out a little squeal. "Okay! Since you're going to date them, I demand pictures."

"Ginny."

"I'm serious! I know Theo is a fox, but I've never seen his boyfriend! I demand photographic evidence. It's my right as your female best friend."

_Knock, Knock!_

"Look, I've _really_ got to go."

"Use a condom, don't get pregnant. Wait—on second thought, if you _did, _the babies would be—"

Hermione had never jammed the 'end call' button so quickly in her life. Babies? Was she absolutely insane? Clearly her pregnancy was muddling her fucking brain. Hermione could barely figure out the dynamics of her pathetic excuse for a love life, why Ginny would even joke about falling pregnant at a time like this was clearly poor judgement on her part.

Tossing her phone on the entry table, Hermione took one last look around the room, teeth already tugging on her bottom lip as she surveyed the wreckage that still remained. Her condo was modest. She could afford something much nicer on her salary, but it was hard to justify needing extra space when it was just her and Crooks. Her first floor had an open concept living-kitchen area with just enough wall space for four shabby bookshelves that had seen better days and a rarely used washroom. Her second level contained her master bedroom and bath, a loft area that she converted to a reading nook, and a guest room. It was far from fancy, but it had been home for the past two years.

While she loved her little condo, no matter how cramped it was, she couldn't help but the niggling worry that it wasn't enough as. Theo had been here before. In fact, he'd come to her condo several times over, but never under this pretense. And Draco? Well, Draco hadn't seen the state of disrepair her home was in, and truthfully, she had hoped he might never find out.

She lived on coffee and takeout. She only really cleaned when she knew she was going to have guests over, and lord only knew that she purposefully kept that to a minimum because she abhorred cleaning.

_Knock, Knock, Knock!_

"Fuck, okay!" She quickly flicked over the deadbolt and yanked the door open. "Jesus, give a girl a moment, would ya?"

"I'm fairly certain you had several, Granger."

Theo and Draco stood shoulder to shoulder, looking like some sort of male model collective for hire. Her hand curled around the side of her door, tongue dragging nervously over her lips as she looked between the pair, awe-struck by the picture they painted together. It was weird, seeing them side by side. Never in her wildest dreams had she ever assumed these two very different parts of her life would cross, yet here she was, on what felt like the precipice of insanity.

Cocking a thick brow, Theo removed his hand from his blazer pocket and pointed over her shoulder into her condo. "Are you going to let us in or should we just hang out on your stoop all evening?"

"Oh shit, right. Yeah—come in." Stepping back, she tried to gulp down the rapidly forming lump in her throat as she let the pair slip inside. Pressing the door shut, she turned to watch silently as Theo and Draco moved into her condo.

Theo was easily a good three inches taller than Draco. Tall, dark, handsome. He was the epitome of what she typically went for with men. His tanned skin and dark green eyes were enough to make her weak in the knees, but it was a stark contrast to his boyfriend. Draco was… Well, almost fae-like in comparison. Platinum hair, light eyes, milky skin. She knew, intimately, there was not an ounce of body hair on his lithe form and while she normally didn't find that sort of thing appealing, there was this captivating presence about him that made it impossible to ignore the thrum of desire.

The fact of the matter was, the two men could not have felt more opposite, and that wasn't even accounting for anything beyond their physical differences. Draco was all cunning and witty, that much was evident from even their first meeting. And, while Theo was far from dull or dumb, his kindess and boyish charm definitely shined more.

Theo shrugged from his blazer, carefully folding it in hand lengthwise then again in half before he set it on her rickety kitchen table. Turning towards his boyfriend, he held out his hand, already anticipating Draco shedding his coat and he took it without question to fold and set beside his own.

Draco was surveying the room with what she could only hope was a less than critical stare, storm cloud colored eyes flicking from the pictures that adorned her walls, to the books on her shelves, assessing her personal effects with an apathetic gaze that did little to ease the tension in the room.

Hermione's hands smoothed across her abdomen nervously as she began towards the kitchen, but the train of thought that beckoned her to be a proper host and offer them a drink evaporated like a drop of water on a hot plate the moment she watched them touch.

Theo placed a hand on his boyfriend's lower back, fingers hovering just above his beltline, far too low to be anything but intimate. He leaned in, their bodies brushing against one another and he drug his lips across Draco's cheek dangerously close to the corner of his mouth before he whispered something to his partner that she couldn't quite make out from her distance.

All at once, forbidden fantasies she hadn't even begun to acknowledge rushed to the forefront of her mind, muddled with burning questions that flashed like neon signs.

Theo and Draco naked… kissing… their hands, their lips, _their tongues. _

Was Theo as dominant with his boyfriend as he was with her? Or was that side of him reserved for the fairer sex?

Did Draco make love to his boyfriend just as slow and methodically as he had with her the other night? Or did they like it fast? Rough?

Who topped who? Or was it more of a switch-hitting type of situation?

And, oh god, would she watch?

Would they allow her to catch a glimpse into their private life?

Did she even _want_ to watch or was it strictly her libido launching into unknown territories like an over enthusiastic puppy?

Draco nodded, turning to look up at Theo and his lips lifted, infinitesimally so, in the tiniest hint of a smile before he leaned in to press a quick kiss to Theo's lips.

Hermione was fairly certain she felt several hundred brain cells pop out of existence.

Wine.

She needed a fucking glass—no, scratch that. She needed an entire bottle.

Clearing her throat, she fought back the flush that colored her skin and made a beeline for the kitchen, purposefully avoiding looking at the couple as she snatched the bottle of Two Buck Chuck from the countertop and quickly twisted off the metal cap. "Wine?"

She didn't bother to wait for a reply as she opened her cabinet and pulled down two stemless wine glasses and a Winnie the Pooh mug. She didn't entertain often, and although she definitely drank, she didn't make a habit of drinking at home. Tonight was clearly an exception to that rule.

She gave herself a rather generous pour into the faded mug, the white wine nearly hitting the rim, before she set the bottle down with a loud _tink_ against the granite countertop. Lifting the mug to her lips, she let the dry liquid slip across her tongue, barely allowing herself to taste it before gulping down two large mouthfuls.

"Whoa, slow down." Heavy footsteps vibrated towards her, and before she could even lower the porcelain mug from her lips, she felt the rapid warmth of body heat at her back. Her eyes slammed closed, fingers flexing on the mug. "Christ, you're nearly as pent up at Draco." Theo's breath moved the baby fine curls on the side of her head and she felt the brush of his fingertips over hers as he slowly eased the mug away from her mouth and out of her hand. "Maybe wine isn't such a good idea."

Was he stupid? Of course it was a good idea. Wine was probably the only way she was going to make it through having this sort of conversation without spontaneously combusting.

Hermione's eyes stayed tightly shut, her body practically vibrating with nervous energy as she heard him set the mug down. His hands gripped her hips, slowly spinning her around. She was pliant under his touch, even now, like some sort of doll.

The brush of knuckles against her cheek sent a shiver trickling down her spine, but it wasn't until he whispered something, that she finally dared to open her eyes. "Can I kiss you?"

"No." Her head shook, lips trembling as she pressed them into a line. He was close—_really_ fucking close—and his mere presence was literally fogging up her mind. She needed space, lots of space, and fresh air. "No, I don't think that's a good idea."

She could make out just a glimpse of hurt in his beautiful dark, green eyes. But, ever the gentleman, Theo gave a solemn nod before dropping his hand from her face and taking a step back. "Probably right." He still wore his tie, the knot loose around his collar, and the first couple buttons of his shirt were opened to reveal just the hint of hair that covered his chest.

Fuck, it should be illegal to look that good in a suit.

How people managed to get through negotiations without needing new underwear was beyond her. Even now, she was practically ready to throw caution to the wind and allow him to do whatever he wanted to her.

"Should we take a seat?" Draco was already in front of her couch, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his jeans. He didn't seem to mind her and Theo's less than platonic encounter. On the contrary, he looked about as unperturbed by Theo's proximity to her as one would be seeing two strangers shaking hands.

Gulping, Hermione nodded. Her shoulder brushed against Theo's as she moved away from his orbit and towards the safety of the old wingback armchair she'd rescued from some curb years ago. It was shabby, the velvet covering riddled with bald spots from years of use, yet despite being broken and worn, it was her most favorite piece. Orange cat hair clung to the fibers, nearly impossible to get off, and she knew the wooden feet that held the chair aloft were scratched and marred beyond repair. Even with its obvious imperfections, she loved it. It was cozy and fit her perfectly when she'd curl into a ball on its cushion. Could she afford a new one? Sure. But there was something so beautiful about its flaws that she couldn't bring herself to part with it.

Claiming the chair, she pulled the black throw blanket that was draped over the arm into her lap, fingers winding into the woven fibers to twist and curl, trying to conceal her anxiety.

Theo claimed the far right cushion on her couch, per usual, while Draco took the left, both looking at her expectantly. She'd invited them over. Clearly they expected her to lead this train wreck of a conversation.

Oh, how utterly wrong they were.

She could barely breathe right now. All of her mental power was focused on reminding her lungs to expand and contract. She was fighting the primitive panic that begged her to flee from what she was certain would not only be the most awkward conversation of her life, but also likely the end of her short lived romance with Draco _and_ secret love affair with his boyfriend.

Silence lingered, filling the space between them until it felt like it stretched for miles—wide, deep, gaping. She could almost see the tension fill the room. Burrowing her fingers into the black fabric, she curled her hands into fists, trying desperately to relieve some of the nervous tension that was steadily building and building and building until it was all she could do not to either burst out with laughter or break down in tears.

Today was supposed to be fun.

She was supposed to have met Draco's son, have a fun little date at the park, and gotten dinner.

She was supposed to have kissed him goodnight and sent him filthy text messages later.

To say this was not what she had planned was one colossal understatement.

"Did you want to start us—"

"Look, maybe it's best if I—"

Both men spoke in unison, their voices mixing into one slow delicious drip of British accent goodness for a single moment before they bashfully stopped talking. They gave each other a small smile to accompany their flub.

_Fuck. _Even now, in what was shaping up to be a rather terse turn of events, they were fucking adorable. Theo looked at Draco with that soft lopsided grin, and Draco seemed to simper under the subtle affection. She was a bitch, an utterly royal bitch for being so heartbroken about this.

Why she'd even let Ginny's absurd notion about joining in on their love-fest grace her consciousness was laughable. Yes, they were poly. Yes, they'd both slept with her, but only one of them had actually taken her on a date. And even then, she'd hardly count the one and a half encounters as anything valid on the scale of what these two so clearly shared with one another.

Theo leaned back into her sofa, his elbow sinking into the arm of her couch so he could prop his fist under his chin as he gave his boyfriend a sweeping gesture to continue. His arm fell gracefully over the back of her couch like he owned the goddamn thing. Bastard. He was always so effortlessly elegant.

Clearing his throat, Draco perched forward, letting his elbows rest against his knees as he pressed his fingertips together, gray eyes narrowing in on Hermione. "I feel like I owe you an apology." He said the words slowly, as if trying to leave zero room for interpretation, though Hermione would be lying if she didn't admit his opening statement already confused the hell out of her.

"What?"

"I should have been more forthcoming with my relationship status. Had I, this"—his index finger dragged an invisible triangle with the three of them acting as anchor points—"would have likely felt like less of a shock." He laced his fingers together, the soft jingle of his wristwatch accompanying his movement. "Though, to be fair, our respective relationships statuses never came up so I'd just assumed you were single."

Hermione's brow drew down in confusion. Assumed she was—that was an odd way to phrase that. "I'm sorry, _what?_"

"I said that I just assumed you were—"

"No, no. I got that part. What exactly do you mean by that?" Shifting, she lifted her legs from the floor and let them curl beneath her in the armchair. "I _am_ single… I wasn't dating Theo."

"You… weren't dating?"

Draco paused, his mouth opening and closing before he turned to look at Theo, who had suddenly taken a great interest in examining the stitching on the top of the sofa cushion. "You like her though."

Picking at the sofa cushion, Theo's shoulders lifted in a small shrug, and she watched as he looked between her and Draco three separate times before he let out a small sigh. "I do but—"

"_What?!"_ Pushing the blanket to the side, Hermione practically jumped to the edge of her seat. Leaning forward, her knees knocked as she tried to get as close as possible to make sure she heard Theo correctly. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to need you to repeat that last part."

Theo stiffened under her question, his fingers still picking at the sofa cushion, letting loose the slightest bit of energy under her watchful eye. His tongue swept across his lips once, twice before he lifted his fingers to turn his palms up toward her ceiling. "What? I fancy you. Sue me."

A laugh—harsh and tinny—bubbled up her throat and into the atmosphere, and Hermione clapped a hand over her lips to prevent it from turning into a roar.

He liked her—no, no, _fancied_ her.

_He _liked _her?!_

When?

How?

Better yet, why had he never fucking said anything?

A million unanswered questions burst to life and it was all Hermione could do to stem the incredulous laughter from stealing all of the oxygen in her lungs.

"Seriously Granger?" His eyes darkened, a hand smoothing over his face in a truly exasperated fashion. "Don't fucking laugh."

"I'm sorry—I'm sorry!" She lifted a finger toward him, lips pressing together tightly and she took several slow deep breaths, trying to calm herself down. "Okay… sorry. It's just—"

"Look, I get it. You weren't interested in me, but I'd say it's hardly fair to laugh because I have feelings for you—" Just like that, the profound lunacy that was her current state of affairs no longer felt ironically joyus. "—I just… Fuck! I've liked you for two bloody years and I guess I hoped you might even feel remotely the same."

Moments in their past suddenly felt more poignant. Times she'd dismissed his sentiments as Theo just being a nice guy suddenly felt like something else entirely and well… Hindsight is always 20/20, right?

Detangling the knot that her limbs had woven themselves into, Hermione moved without any preamble of hesitation, crawling over her water stained coffee table to claim a spot directly in front of Theo who was still mid-ramble, trying to defend feelings that she had zero knowledge of prior to ten seconds ago.

"Theo."

"—I know it isn't that big of a deal. I'm fucking capable of shagging without feelings, but bugger, Granger… I don't—"

Draco, as if suddenly clued in on how fucking foolish they both were, tried his best to help her efforts. "Theodore, I think Hermione has something to say."

"—I just took what I could get, and I don't know, if shagging you was all you were—"

"Theo!" Reaching out, she set her hand on his knee, stubbed fingernails digging into his soft slacks and she felt him stiffen as his eyes suddenly sharpened back from the haze he'd lost himself in. "I didn't know."

His hands were still frozen mid-air in the weird gesticulation that he'd given when she brought him back to this plane of reality. His adam's apple traveled the length of his throat with an audible gulp, and for the first time since she'd known him, Theo looked to be at a loss for words.

Shifting closed so their knees brushed, she gently tucked her hands into his lap, covering his much larger set with her own. "I had no idea… I just assumed you only wanted to... Well, you know..."

"Shag?" Draco supplied, leaning back on the arm of the couch so he could get a better look at the pair. His lips were lifted in what she was already beginning to realize was his trademark smirk, and as much as it annoyed her at the moment, it also made her want to reach across the sofa and kiss it from his sinfully plush mouth.

"For lack of a better term, yes." Hermione nodded, patting Theo's hand lightly before she pulled back. "You never asked me on a date."

Draco laughed, because evidently this epic miscommunication was either hysterical to everyone else or a character trait of Theo's.

"No, no—that's not true." Theo cleared his throat, spine straightening. "I did! I asked you out more than once."

Hermione lifted a brow. "Bullshit. When?"

"I invited you to Napa after Eli's third birthday."

"For Netflix's company picnic?" Hermione wrinkled her nose, giving him a firm shake of her head as Draco literally sputtered with laughter. "That's not a date."

"Well what about when I asked you to Carmel last Thanksgiving?"

"You were going with to meet up with E.M. and her fucking family! You also invited Harry and Ginn, so excuse me for one: not wanting to go to Carmel with the mother of your child and two: assuming it wasn't a date because you _invited all of our friends!"_ Hermione tossed her hands in the air, eyes widening at Theo as the errors of his past attempts began to settle in. "Beyond that, I was already resigned to just sex with you by that point! You went over an entire year without… without asking me out. How the hell else was I supposed to interpret_ that?"_

"I had a two-year-old when we met. Life was… complicated! It's not easy to just get away." His hand was back in his hair, ruffling the dark locks into chaos once again. "Jesus, are you fucking telling me if I'd—if I'd made my intentions clear that—"

"_Yes_!"

Draco, no longer even attempting to keep it together at this point, let out a loud snort, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. "You two are bloody helpless. I can't even fathom the amount of idiocy that has occurred in my absence."

"Don't even get me started on you!" Hermione turned, her knees smacking sharply against Theo's as she angled herself to point a finger at the blond. "You lied to me."

"What? I did no such thing." His hand dropped from his face, perfectly shaped brow lifting. "I have made my intentions rather clear since our first date. I will admit to not being open about my relationship status, but that is it."

"Oh? Is it?"

"Yes. Everything else was transparent."

"Really?"

"_Yes!_"

"So Eli is your son then?"

Draco bristled, his eyes narrowing just slightly and he shot a quick glance to Theo, who had placed his hand across his mouth to cover what appeared to be a widening shit-eatting grin. Theo lifted his hand toward Draco, pairing the motion with a soft, _hmm_ as if he, too, was awaiting the answer.

"Biologically, no. Elijah is not mine, but absolutely, he _is _my son."

Fuck.

He was good.

Too good.

Hermione could feel her heartstrings tug, and like some sort of inflatable life preserver, the notion that Draco was so close to not just his forever boyfriend, but also Eli, made even the most sarcastic parts of her quiver.

She couldn't help but laugh at her inability to find a single way to retort his claim. His sentiment _was_ utterly heartwarming.

Theo reached across the sofa, fingers outstretched to Draco as he took ahold of his boyfriend's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. She knew, without words, that he had absolutely given the right answer.

Lacing their fingers together, Draco leaned over to press a quick kiss on the back of Theo's hand in yet another small display of affection that left her reeling. Then he turned his attention back to her with a sharp smirk lifting the corner of his lips.

Cocky fuck.

"I suppose that settles that confusion then? Theodore is interested in more than shagging, and I've been more than clear with my interest." He let his hand fall to the middle couch cushion, fingers still entwined with Theo's, evidently not intent on giving up the support the hand hold provided. "So…"

"So… what?" Her head cocked to the side. "You want to make me your—what's the term? Unicorn or something?" It was laughable to even remotely entertain the possibility of that being his implication. On what fucking planet would two people so clearly in love want to add another to their relationship—let alone _her?_

"I mean, if you're open to the idea, I'd say it's worth exploring." Draco lifted his shoulder in a shrug, casting a quick glance to Theo. When his boyfriend nodded in agreement, he turned the full force of those hopeful gray eyes back on her.

"Wait… I was—_really?_"

"Jesus, Granger, you're utterly hopeless." Theo rolled his eyes, tongue pushing against his canine tooth as his crooked smile fell into place. It was that look—that charming, boyishly handsome lift to his lips, that sucked her in so long ago. It even managed to give birth to those pesky butterflies once more. "Yes. Absolutely yes. Don't get me wrong, what we have is nice—_really_ nice, but I wouldn't mind taking you on a proper date."

"And I wouldn't mind getting to know you more," Draco tacked on for good measure.

Ginny was right.

_Fuck_, Ginny was right.

The woman would never let her live this moment down, and, well, Hermione couldn't very well have that, now could she? No. Absolutely not.

This new development might also end up giving Harry a heart attack. As fun as it was to watch him flounder, she highly doubted a stint at the Kaiser Medical Center would really be ideal so close to the birth of his child.

Despite the little devil on her shoulder that was practically yanking on her curls to tell them yes, that stupid, moronic, dark cloud made her hesistate.

Not because of Ginny.

Not because of Harry.

Because of her own self doubts. Because of her own fears.

They were happy together. Yes, they claimed to want more than the comforts that each other could provide, but at what cost? Would she get even more attached to them before they realised how foolish it was? Had they shared a girlfriend before? She knew it wasn't common—even in the poly circles.

Shifting nervously on the coffee table, she pressed her knees against her clasped hands, fingers digging into the softness of her thighs. It wasn't that she wasn't interested. Clearly the idea was more than appealing, but she would be hard pressed to admit to wanting to jump into the new and unfamiliar dynamic of polyamory without at least sleeping on the idea.

"I think… I need some time." The words were slow leaving her lips, carefully selected in her whirling mind. "This is just a lot to process and… I just want to make sure I'm prepared for what this is before committing—if I'm being honest."

Smart.

She knew she was being smart, but the brief flash of disappointment on Theo's face was nearly enough to break her resolve to wait.

"Okay… I understand." Theo was the first to speak. He forced what she now knew was his fake smile and squeezed Draco's hand as he turned to look at his boyfriend. "You ready?"

"If you are." Draco unwound their fingers, sliding his hand through his blonde fringe to slick it back into place before he pushed up from the couch.

"Uh… what are you doing?" Hermione leaned back, letting her hands rest on the coffee table behind her to get a better view of both men as they towered over her sitting frame.

"Giving you space." Theo's hand slipped into his trouser pockets, a section of his dark hair draping across his forehead in an almost James Dean-esque fashion. "So you can think."

She really didn't deserve either of them. If they knew the dark thoughts that plagued her mind, and just how utterly haphazard her life was, they'd likely run away screaming. Asking for time wasn't a means of delaying a declined offer. It was what she knew she was _supposed_ to do.

One of them had to be an adult about this whole thing, right?

"I didn't say you had to leave." Pushing up off the table, she pressed a hand on either of their shoulders and pushed them back down to the couch before spinning around so she could fall onto the middle cushion between them. "It's rush hour anyway and… I cleaned my condo. So really, you're obligated to stay."

Draco craned a look over his shoulder, the corner of his lips twitching. "_This_ is clean?"

"Woooow. Okay, so Theo's clearly getting the best potential boyfriend award for the night," Hermione murmured under her breath, brows lifting playfully as she looked down.

"Ha!" Theo settled back into the couch, his arm draping over the back of the sofa as he crossed his legs.

"What? Totally unfair." Draco reached over, index and middle finger poking her in her side, causing her to squeak and lean into The to escape the tickling prode. "I didn't realise this was a competition."

"Well, it's not because Theo is clearly winning."

"What if I buy take away?"

Hermione tapped her index finger against her chin, eyes flicking between each man before she lifted her shoulders in an innocent shrug. "Then you might have a fighting chance for today's standings… as long as it's pizza." Before she could even bat an eye, Draco was pulling his phone from his front pocket, thumbs hastily punching in his passcode.

She smiled, leaning into Theo's embrace as she watched Draco open up Postmates in search of a local pizzeria. She felt the slow ebb of warmth form, dissipating that lingering dark cloud. Maybe dating them wouldn't be a bad idea?

"What should I order?"

Theo's chest vibrated with a silent laugh. "Well, I'd say it's safe to go with a Meat Lover's…."

Scratch that.

They were clearly going to be the end of her.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Hey ya'll! Sorry this update is behind. My beta was fantastic and had it on time, but unfortunately, my life has kinda hit the fan.

I work in healthcare and as you can imagine with the current state of the world this is a bit difficult to manage. That being said, be a bit patient with updates. They're coming! It just might be off schedule for a hot minute. I have about six chapters pre-written so I shouldn't fall behind.

That being said: Wash your hands, stay out of the public if you can avoid it & stay healthy!

Until next time.


	10. Chapter 10

She could feel Harry's eyes on her, waiting for her to answer the question she'd been avoiding since she arrived. She should have known this was coming, it only made sense. He hadn't gotten to press her for details the other night during her moment of existential panic, but in the three days that passed, she'd calmed down just slightly, and now he pounced.

Thank God for the small mercy of him having the tact to not accost her in the cafeteria this morning., because while having _this_ conversation in a Koja Kitchen was not ideal, it was better than being surrounded by coworkers.

Spearing a bit of the braised pork from her Umami fries, Hermione dared to lift her eyes back to her friend, taking a slow tentative bite. "I… I'm going to be honest, I don't know how to answer that."

"It wasn't really a complicated question." Harry clucked his tongue with that paternal air of disapproval. "Are you seeing them?"

God. Why was this so complicated? It didn't _need_ to be. At least not yet.

"I see a lot of people. I see you, and Ginny and—"

"Don't be a smartarse and just answer the sodding question."

Ooh! Sassy British slang. She'd hit a nerve.

Okay, she could reign it back in, at least a little bit.

Setting her fork down on her Sriracha stained napkin, she adjusted on the stiff particle board bench, crossing her leg at the knee to let her heel hang loosely off her foot. "_Technically, _I am not seeing anyone. Contrary to popular belief, I am capable of making sound decisions and… and, well, I'm not sure what I'm going to do yet." Her nails wandered across her thighs, scratching absentmindedly through the slick fabric of her slacks, a nervous tick that helped quell at least some of the discomfort bubbling in her chest. "Do I _like_ them? Yes. Theo is a really nice guy—like way nicer than anyone I've dated before, but he comes with baggage."

"Ella-Mae?"

"Amongst other things. But, yes, having a nearly perfect ex doesn't really bode well in my favor."

Harry scoffed, leaning back in his chair, tattooed arms crossing over his chest. "Seriously 'Mione? Ella-Mae is lovely but—"

"Ah. Nope. You don't get to do that right now." She leveled her index finger on her friend, head tilting down just slightly. "You wanted me to talk so let me finish."

"But—"

"Ah! Zip it Potter."

It bothered him, she could sense his immediate disdain for being forced silent, but he made a show of 'zipping' his mouth shut before gesturing for her to continue.

"_Anyways, _I do like Theo, but, truthfully, I hadn't even humored the idea of actually... I don't know... _dating _him." It wasn't like he was un-dateable. No, if anything Theo was almost too perfect. Smart, handsome, career driven, good with his son—did she mention handsome? On a scale one to ten, Theo was like an eleven. But _that _was the problem. He was… _too much_. He had his shit together and she was still eating fucking Ramen most nights of the week—by choice! "And don't even get me started on Draco."

Harry sputtered like he was in a bad sitcom, his eyes widening, hand lifting to cover his mouth as he coughed violently. "Sorry—I… Uh…" He fumbled for his cup, hastily drinking down mouthfuls of Pineapple Cream soda. "Did you say Draco?"

Okay, yes. His name was weird, but that reaction was a bit excessive. "Uh… yeah."

"As in Malfoy?"

Oh. Yeah. Last names. She never did catch his, did she? Her shoulders lifted in a small shrug, palms towards the ceiling as a slow grimace pulled down her lips. "Maybeee?"

"Jesus fucking Christ." Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, head shaking. She could vaguely hear him mutter something under his breath about this being unbelievable before he fished his phone from his pocket. "Is… this him?"

The iPhone 11's screen was thrust in her face, and Hermione had to reel back in her chair to get a proper view. There, on the six and a half inch screen, was a picture of the blond in question. He was on the street somewhere—London maybe?—with a pair of dark sunglasses, his hand lifted towards the camera in an attempt to shield himself from the lense. Her brow furrowed and Hermione quickly snatched the phone from Harry's outstretched hand, zooming in on the photo to get a better look at his face.

Well, it certainly looked like him, but why on earth would—

She swiped through the image search, making a mental note to chastise Harry for his use of Bing as his default search engine—seriously, who in the hell actually used Bing—as she flipped through picture after picture of the same man who she had snuggled up against while eating pizza just a couple days ago.

The confusion was clear as day on her face, frown lines growing deeper by the second, and she looked up to find Harry leaning his elbows on the table, completely ignoring his Bulgogi tacos. "You have no idea who he is, do you?"

"… Theo's boyfriend?"

"God. I'm literally going to flay him when I see him next—not just for shagging you, but for not bloody telling me he was dating a fucking Malfoy."

"You keep using that last name like I should know it." Hermione shifted, uncrossing her legs as she leaned on the table, still flipping through the pictures with a mix of curiosity and dread rising in her stomach.

Why did Harry know him? Why was this a big deal? Was he some celebrity? Clearly he wasn't that famous if she had no fucking idea who he was!

"He's a Royal, Hermione."

That was… not what she was expecting to hear.

"I'm sorry—what?" She laughed, barely containing the way the disbelief penetrated not just her words, but the emotion on her face, too. There was absolutely no way he was a member of the Royal family. He ate pizza! He took whiskey shots with her at the bar. He lounged in bed and ate Funyuns and peanut M&M's with her. Royal people didn't do that—they didn't do 'normal' people things… Did they?

"He's like… a Duke or something. I can't remember where—Devonshire? Maybe Gloucester? I have no bloody idea. Text Ginny, she'll know."

Oh, he was serious! This was… _wow_.

She set Harry's phone down, sliding it across the filthy table towards him, with a slow. deliberate push, before her hands moved to smooth her fly always back into her curls. While they had agreed not to discuss anything of importance, this felt like it should have superseded that rule.

Gulping, her mind whirled with a myriad of questions—beginning with _how the hell Theo ended shacking up with a royal_ and ending with _did they ever intend on telling her or was she supposed to find out post-commitment? _Harry continued to talk, though she couldn't be bothered to pay attention as she snatched her purse from the floor and began to rifle through it for her phone.

She was going to murder them. Both.

He wasn't a fucking Duke in the U.S., and while murder was technically still illegal, she wouldn't have the charge of killing royalty added to her rap sheet.

Opening up a group chat, she added Theo and Hot Brit #2 before firing off the first message, completely ignoring Harry's rambling at this point in favor of demanding answers from the two men who were clearly here to make her life that much more complicated.

**Hey! Long time no chat. Thanks for giving me some space but… I was just curious… Were either of you going to tell me about the whole Prince thing?!**

The chat bubbles appeared beside Draco's name, bobbing aimlessly, before quickly disappearing with no trace of existence. Fucker.

_I thought I'd mentioned it before. x_

Theo. Handsome, brilliant, yet clearly inept Theo. Were he in front of her as opposed to her best friend, she might've actually throttled him.

**Definitely not. **

_It's really not that big of a deal. He doesn't even require a security detail. x_

If that was supposed to make her feel better, Theo was failing. Miserably. Chewing on her bottom lip, she glanced up to Harry, watching him for half a second to make it look like she was paying attention before pulling her eyes back down to her phone.

**I'm sorry, but does he have the title of Prince or not?**

Technically I'm a Duke.

_Honestly, Granger, it's not that impressive. He's like 20__th__ in line to the throne. x_

Twelfth, but thank you for being so dismissive about my nobility. Really warms my heart that you disregard such details.

_Anytime. x_

**Are you two fucking serious right now?! **

She could feel her cheeks crimson, the rising need to scream, or laugh, or cry waring inside her until she let out a small noise in frustration and slammed her phone down on the table. _Fuck._ If this wasn't already complicated enough, Draco being a… a _royal _was really not exactly easy.

Sure, they seemed rather dismissive about the whole thing, and Hermione, admittedly, knew very little about the Royal family, but from what she _did _know, they didn't just hand out titles like fucking candy to commoners. Those were inherited. Land fought over eons ago by some ancestors in funny pants. They were _important,_ even if he was '_only_ twelfth in line' to some throne.

Before she could sink her fingers into her curls, Harry leaned across the small table and trapped her hand in his. He squeezed gently, just enough pressure to pull her eyes up from where she'd been boring holes into the tabletop. "You're going to be alright."

"I'm glad one of us thinks so." Hermione turned her palm over so their fingers could thread together. Silence lingered between them, her eyes glued to the way her hand fit into his. She wasn't entirely certain when it all happened—when life became so complicated. Sure, this whole thing with Theo and Draco absolutely mucked things up a bit for her, but her history of obstacles went much further back than she could blame either of them for.

Her teeth worried her bottom lip as that little black cloud began to fog over her rational thoughts, a painful reminder of her own character deficits. Wshe could excuse away any malfeasance on Theo or Draco's behalf, she wasn't in much of a position to forgive herself for her own flaws.

"'Mione."

The gentle way Harry spoke her name brought her down from the storm clouds that lingered in her soul and back to reality. Lifting her eyes, her mouth curled in a pathetic hint of a smile. "Yeah?"

His brow set, heavy and riddled with the shallow etchings of future wrinkles. He brought their joined hands up to his lips and pressed a tender kiss to the top of her knuckles. "You know that no matter what, I just want to see you happy, right?"

"Yes, yes. I know."

"No, seriously. I mean it." Laying her hand on the table, he smoothed his fingertips across the back of it before patting gently. "Regardless of my personal beliefs… or what anyone else might think about it, if you're happy with them—and I mean _genuinely_ happy—I will support you. You know that, right?"

She'd said it before, to herself, to others, and, in this moment, that same thought crossed her mind: She didn't deserve Harry.

His kindness, his friendship, his heart. Any bit of the support he gave her, but not for any reason other than her own mortality. She had gone so long being alone that it was hard to wrap her mind around being able to lean on someone who wouldn't judge her.

"I don't know…" Her voice trailed off, emotion penetrating her words until that distinctive quiver of doubt tore them to shreds._ Fuck._ She wasn't going to get all sappy now—not in a Koja Kitchen. Clearing her throat, Hermione pulled her hand back from Harry's and grabbed her fork to spear another piece of braised pork. "I don't know what I want yet. I'm just going to take my time… figure out what exactly I am looking for. God knows I normally rush into shit."

She could sense he wanted to say more, to press her and figure out what exactly was roving through her mind, and as much as she wanted to be able to provide him an answer, the truth remained that it was impossible. She didn't know what she wanted—beyond the obviousness of finishing her umami fries before they got cold, of course.

She knew she liked Draco's company and was just beginning to figure out the dynamic of that relationship.

She knew she'd always had feelings for Theo, no matter how stubbornly she tried to convince herself otherwise.

But did she like the idea of dating two men simultaneously? _That _was tricky.

It didn't make her turn up her nose, the idea of them _sharing_ was admittedly hot—she was fairly certain there was a whole porn genre dedicated to just that. And she didn't necessarily mind the idea of being with both of them, separately or together, but she had no idea if this was the lifestyle she wanted.

It wasn't as simple as just agreeing to try it out. There were feelings involved; feelings she already had for both men and feelings they had for one another. And she needed time to figure out how to merge them together.

Letting loose a heavy breath, Hermione shook her head, fingers carding through her curls and pushing them back from her face before she made a sweeping gesture toward his half-eaten lunch. "Okay, enough of this shit. Eat your lunch so we can go back to the office. I have real fucking work to do today, Mr. Potter."

"Are you trying to insinuate that I don't do real work?"

"I am insinuating nothing, I know you don't do real work."

He tried to act hurt, but couldn't even manage to keep his frown long enough to make it through his heart clutching dramatics. "Bugger, you're right. I've been browsing Reddit all day." Reaching across the table, Harry plucked a fry from her plate and popped it in his mouth.

"Soccer nonsense?"

"Football is never nonsense, but if you _must_ know, yes. I needed to defend my stance on why Beckham isn't the end all be all English footballer."

"Oh you _needed _to, did you?"

"Obviously."

Picking up a forkful of pork, she took a small bite, eyes rolling as she leaned back in her seat, letting her shoulders press into the hard wood of the shabby furniture. "Judgement aside, I really do have work to do." She wagged her fork at his plate, arching a thin brow. "Eat up."

Harry dutifully leaned forward, elbows resting on the table as he picked up the last bit of his taco, intent on following her command. "What are you doing this evening?" His question came before taking a large bite, bits of lettuce dropping to his plate as he chewed noisily.

"Nothing of substance. Trash TV, rosé, and probably some laundry." Tossing her fork on the paper plate, she nudged the nearly finished fries toward Harry, not even needing to ask if he'd like to finish them off for her at this point in their friendship. That was one of the many things Hermione envied about the lithe man that sat opposite her—he could eat like a fucking truck driver and not gain a single pound. Meanwhile, if she even so much as looked at chocolate for too long, she'd gain fifteen.

"Come over for dinner? Ginn's making Swedish meatballs—"

"Ew."

Harry clicked his tongue, shooting her a quick glance of exasperation before he picked up her discarded plate of fries and set it over his now empty taco tray. "_But_ I've got leftover pasta bake you can have."

Tempting.

She did love carbs.

"Garlic bread?"

"I believe there is some in the container, yes."

"Can I drink your wine?"

Harry put a forkful in his mouth, eyes lifting to the ceiling in thought as he let the plastic fork rest against his bottom lip. "Hmmm… I don't think we've got any. But I've got ale and whiskey that you're welcome to."

Well, how could she decline that? Frankly, it might also be the perfect distraction from the two men currently filling her inbox with messages trying to better explain Draco's station with the Royal family and why it was 'really not a big deal.'

"Okay. I'll be there." Picking up her silenced phone from the table, she tapped in her passcode and exited out of her text messages, ignoring the numerous blue response bubbles that littered the screen.

She could deal with them later.

Tonight, and maybe even tomorrow, would be about researching how the hell one navigates a polyamorous relationship. While she had a feeling Reddit might be able to lend some advice, she also knew she was likely going to see an awful lot of images she didn't want to.

And if Harry was going to claim the title of best friend, he was going to damn well share in that misery with her.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Hi everyone! I am so sorry for the delay on this. My world is kinda a mess and I am in the midst of a small fandom break. I have a bunch of chapters pre-written but worry about releasing them super quickly and losing momentum. I am not sure when I'll be back, but I will be. Huge kudos to Dreamsofdramione, LumosLyra, & Disenchantedglow for being rockstars and helping me through this mess that my head is in. I love you all and hope to be back real soon.


	11. Chapter 11

**Warning: This Chapter is NSFW**

* * *

It had been four days since the proverbial Royal bomb dropped.

96 hours.

5,760 minutes.

345,600 seconds.

Four fucking days and she was _still _avoiding their texts.

Not because she wasn't interested—quite the opposite actually. She was more certain now than before that she _wanted_ the same thing they claimed to want.

But Reddit happened.

_Fucking Reddit_.

God, it was a lovely tool when scoping out the weirdest parts of society from a safe distance, or needing to get behind the scenes updates on events in The Bachelor, but it also, quite literally, induced nightmares.

Horror stories of dates gone awry, people she wouldn't want to meet in back alleys, and medical ailments. It always, without fail, sucked her into a spiral until she'd text Harry at two am asking if she could crash in their spare room because she wasn't certain if her next-door neighbor was a psychopath or sociopath based on the online test she'd taken.

Sadly, this time was no different.

She'd combed the front page of the internet's subreddits for what felt like hours. In the beginning it wasn't bad. She'd seen lots of anecdotes about how wonderful it was, how fulfilling it could be to have two partners care for you, and in turn to care for them.

But then the other shoe had dropped.

The cautionary tales came forth, and she found herself actively seeking them. Stories of betrayal. Mistrust. Heart break. One minute her head was in the clouds, and the next she was hiding under the covers from the storm brewing around her.

Theo and Draco had been together, off and on, for fifteen years. _Fifteen fucking years_. That was… more than impressive—fuck, it was awe-inspiring. And while yes, they'd clearly been into the poly lifestyle well before she came along, she knew, for a fact (thanks Theo), that they had never shared a partner before.

She also knew (thanks r/Polyamory) that it usually ended poorly. And she wasn't sure she could live with herself if she brought an end to a fifteen year long relationship.

So, Hermione did what she did best in these types of situations.

Avoid.

Hide.

Ignore.

She'd left Theo and Draco on read since Wednesday night, and while she was feeling a teensy tiny bit guilty, she would be lying if she said the break wasn't a little helpful. She could think clearly, albeit semi-frantically. She could wrap her head around what it meant, and what that type of relationship would require—not only from her, but also from them.

The level of trust she'd be required to give them both wasn't something she was certain she was emotionally capable of—especially with anyone whose last name wasn't Potter.

She had too many flaws, aside from the obvious physical ones. She was barely managing to adult most days, and lord only knew what sort of dumpster fire her mental state was in.

No, no. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't commit to that. If she had a hand in potentially fucking up their relationship, she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to forgive herself.

Which is precisely why she'd sent Theo to voicemail when he'd called her this morning… and again this afternoon. And why she was opting to eat an entire bag of Smartpop and a handful of trail mix for lunch as opposed to venturing into the cafeteria for some overpriced sandwich. She was willing to let work consume her mind for just a couple more hours. Then, if she was lucky, she'd be able to find a good seat at the local dive bar and enjoy the company of other woefully emotionally stunted thirty-something-year-olds for a while.

_Knock, knock, knock._

One hand froze on the trackpad of her MacBook, the other curled tightly around the half-eaten bag of popcorn. She'd made a point of drawing her curtains earlier in the day as a means of hiding from her team members, and prayed that whoever stood on the opposite side of the glass door would give up when she didn't respond.

It _was _lunchtime after all.

It was reasonable to assume that she—

"Oh no, she's in here. She's just hiding." Harry made zero pretenses about respecting her personal space as he pushed into her office, blinds snapping loudly against the glass. "Ah, see. Told ya!" Sidestepping from her entryway, Harry's hand fell off the knob and he scooted against her bookcase to let in a man she wasn't entirely prepared to see.

Theo stood there, looking like a rose in a garden of daisies. wasn't overly strict on their dress policy, it was an IT company after all, but down in HR, they kept it business casual. Khakis, slacks, blouses, the occasional dress. But no one—absolutely positively no one—wore a suit. Especially not the charcoal gray three piece that Theo was currently donning.

He tipped his head in a silent thank you to Harry, flashing him one of those smiles that made her weak in the knees as he swept into her office. His dark green eyes glanced around at the cluttered mess with an almost amused lift to his lips.

Fuck.

_Fuck_, this wasn't good.

Her fingers flexed around the bag of popcorn, causing a few kernels to tumble into her lap, and she gulped, helpless against the rising tide of shock that washed over her. She could feel her stomach twist violently, and that same flighty feeling she'd been warring with all week returned.

"Thank you, Harry. I've never actually been invited to her office before." Theo was already undoing the buttons that held his blazer shut. Hermione watched, hypnotized by the way his thumb threaded the black buttons free, and it wasn't until he shrugged off his overcoat and laid it on one of her chairs that she realized Theo intended to stay.

"Have fun you two." Harry was already backing out of her office, avoiding eye contact with her at all costs.

She attempted to signal him when Theo turned toward him, trying to give him _the look_ as she scrambled to her feet, tossing the popcorn bag in the trash can in her haste.

_He couldn't leave! What the fuck did he think he was doing?_

But all she could do was watch as Harry shut the door in his departure, the low murmur of laughter following the resounding snap of her blinds hitting the glass pane of her door again.

She was going to kill him, preferably with her bare hands.

"You've been avoiding me."

Theo went straight for the gut punch and Hermione couldn't blame him. If the roles were reversed, she would likely do the same. Shifting her weight between her heels, clammy hands smoothed her pencil skirt across her hips, trying to brush away the residue from her lunch.

"Nuh-uh." Lie. Good plan. Solid Plan.

"Oh? So have my messages not been coming through your phone?"

"Yeah, it's the… uh... weirdest thing!" A forced bubble of laughter burst up her throat as she latched on to a semi-logical explanation for her avoidance. Her heels clicked loudly as she moved from behind her desk, tongue sweeping across her painted lips. "Harry's been saying that, too. I've been meaning to go—"

His phone was already in his hands, and before she could even so much as finish her sentence, hers buzzed loudly on her desk. Theo looked up, thumbs still moving across his screen. Seconds later, another buzz.

She didn't know when she stopped walking, but she was still a few feet away from Theo, her mouth agape, watching him like a deer in headlights as he turned his phone toward her to show the two messages he'd just sent with a cocked brow.

"Uh…"

"Don't lie to me."

Hermione sighed. "Fine. I've been avoiding you."

"Obviously." Theo tucked his phone back into his pocket as he moved closer, stopping a few inches shy of the toes of his loafers colliding with her heels. "The question is _why_?" He looked at her as if he could see through her, like he could read every nervous thought that had fluttered through her mind over the past four days. Like he not only understood them, but wanted to fix them, and she would be a liar if she said she didn't want to let him.

Her fingers flexed nervously at her sides and she shifted her weight between her heels, steadily holding his gaze. The words tumbled in her mind as if they were on the spin cycle instead of a linear thought.

Why was she avoiding him?

Because she was scared.

Because she still wasn't certain dating two men was socially acceptable.

Because she didn't want to ruin their friendship if things went sour.

Because she didn't want to ruin his fucking fifteen-year relationship.

Because she—

"Hermione?"

"Because you're fucking handsome." The words sprung from her tongue, slicing the narrow distance between them and Hermione could have literally curled up into a ball and died due to the pure idiocracy the thought her mind had latched on to.

Because he was handsome? While not untrue, it was absolutely, positively not a fucking reason to avoid someone.

Theo didn't react beyond arching a brow, his emotions carefully masked under what Hermione had come to know as his lawyer face. She gulped. If this is what sitting opposite him during negotiations was like, she was really glad her future wasn't in show biz.

"I—uh… you guys are like… ridiculously good looking and—and…" She could feel color creep across her cheeks, warming her skin as it traveled down her neck until the flush spread over her chest. Theo's ability to turn her into a babbling mess, even after two years, was bar none. Sure, when they were hanging out (or, ya know, fucking) she didn't have to worry about looking like an idiot. But now that the truth was out there, his feelings for her, her feelings for him, and the addition of Draco to that unstable cocktail… Well, she wasn't exactly eager to continually put her size seven foot in her mouth every available opportunity.

"Jesus Christ, Theo. Can you just like turn off the smolder for half a fucking second?" Hermione slipped past him so she could lean against the side of her desk. "I can't fucking think when you look at me like that." She kept her eyes averted as she tossed a hand in his general direction. "Well, frankly, I can't fucking think around you like ninety percent of the time but, you know, that—that look makes it literally impossible."

His deep rumble of laughter sent a shiver down her spine. She gripped the edge of the desk in an attempt to prevent herself from melting into a puddle in the middle of her cluttered office. God, she hated him—why did he had to be so fucking perfect all the time?

She could make out the soft click of his loafers as he drew near, and soon the toes of his shoes were between her feet, his knees brushing against her own. A large hand found her hip while the other went to tip her head back so her eyes were no longing boring holes into the poorly colored flooring.

"Are you really trying to tell me that you don't want to be with me… because I'm too handsome?" The hint of a smile lifted his lips, dark green eyes doing their best to contain the unadulterated joy he so evidently experienced thanks to the slip of her tongue.

Her fingers found the hem of her skirt, twisting and rolling the stretchy material as a means to try and release at least some of the energy bubbling inside. "No… I very much am interested in you—in _both_ of you, but—" Reaching up, she gently pulled his hand away from her cheek, thumb stroking across his knuckles. "Men like you two should not be interested in someone like me."

"Someone like you?"

"Yes, Theo. I am a fucking mess. I barely remember to set my alarm every night—ask Harry—and I binge eat popcorn and M&M's pretty fucking regularly. I have a good job but up here…" Her hand left his and she gestured towards her temple in a small spiral motion. "I am a fucking mess. You know this. I know you do. Ginny and Harry, although sweet, aren't exactly tight-lipped. And… well, to put this quite bluntly, both of you could go out and have any woman you wanted."

Theo didn't release his hold on her hip, instead, his fingers curled against her skin, as if afraid she was seconds away from running. Which, truth be told, didn't sound like a half bad idea, considering the way his eyes were softening on her like some sort of love-sick puppy. "If that were the case, then shouldn't I be able to have you?"

"Seriously? You know what I meant by that."

"Clearly I don't, because I've made my intentions pretty apparent by this point, Granger."

"You _are_ aware I've seen your ex, right?" The cycle of self-deprecation she found herself in was toxic, she was a well-educated woman, she _knew_ this, but after so many years of self-loathing, coupled with years upon years of being force fed images of women she could never compared to—well, it was hard to see through the weeds when everything was so fucking overgrown. "You know, the tall, beautiful blonde who looks like she hasn't eaten carbs in at least ten years."

"I think it's more like fifteen, if I'm being honest, but you _are_ aware she is an ex for a reason?"

"Look, all I'm trying to say is you two are out of my league. Like you guys are MLB and I'm still stuck in the AAA's, and while I know that you know absolute dick about baseball, I also know that you know precisely what I am saying." She pressed her index finger against his chest, leveling her gaze with his. "Men like you don't date women like me."

Theo didn't hesitate. He didn't blink, nor balk at her words. No, he did precisely what every man in some stupid fucking romantic comedy would do: He fucking kissed her.

His hand moved to her cheek after swatting her finger off his chest, and before she could so much as fathom what the hell he was trying to accomplish in that moment, he guided her mouth against his, deepening the kiss. Despite her better judgement, she melted.

Her knees knocked, and had she not already been leaning against her desk, she would have fallen flat on her arse. One hand curled around his broad shoulder, using him for support, as the other curled around his wrist. She could feel the thrum of his pulse beneath her fingertips. Strong. Rapid. Erratic. Had she any doubts left about how Theo felt for her, this moment—feeling his need and desire in something as simple as his heartbeat—would have eradicated them instantly.

"You're beautiful…. smart… funny… sarcastic... fucking perfect." The words were spoken against her lips, hot puffs of breath washing over her skin, igniting her nerve endings until every ounce of her felt aflame. "You're precisely what I want, Granger."

"Shhh." Her fingers walked up his wrist, gently easing his hand from her face and she guided it to her waist. "Stop talking."

"Absolutely not." He nipped her bottom lip, tugging gently at the swollen flesh as he moved until she could feel his hips brush against her own. "You need… to hear this." His mouth moved over her jaw, nibbling gently as he worked his way across her skin until his lips hovered just next to her ear. "You're gorgeous. Positively… stunning. Want to know my favorite part about you, Granger? Aside from how bloody smart you are."

Her body trembled.

His fingers pinched and plucked at her skirt with each whispered word until the tight material began to creep up her thighs, exposing more and more of her skin to the crisp, cool air in her office. "T-Theo… I—"

"Your breasts are exquisite, Firm… round… perfect pink nipples. I bet Draco lavished them with attention, didn't he?"

Her mind went foggy, each breathy whisper sent her spiralling further and further into the Theo-induced haze that made it nearly impossible to think of a reason this should not be happening. Like she wasn't in her office, letting one half of the men of her dreams bring her closer and closer to an early demise.

"But as much as I love your breasts… I'm more of an arse man myself, and you, Granger, have got the best arse I've seen in years." He hummed as he yanked her skirt up, exposing her bare skin to the chill of her office—damn thong. Wicked fingers bunched her skirt around her waist like a belt, the stretchy material pulling tight around her middle, making it hard to breath. "Heart shaped… perfect for spanking, and God, your thighs. So thick and sexy… Men used to conquer continents for bodies like yours."

"Theo, my door."

"Hrmm… it's pretty far away." His fingers danced up her inner thighs, alternating legs until he reached her cloth covered cunt. He stroked her slit through the damp material. "You wouldn't want me to stop to check, would you?" His nose nudged against her temple, tilting her head back so he could have better access to nibble on her earlobe.

Her thighs spread wider, because despite the alarm that flared within her mind—reminding her that the danger of being walked in on was _very fucking real_—the insatiable teenage sex-hungry monster that lived in the depths of her mind had other ideas in mind.

"That's it, good girl," Theo crooned like some sort of sex God as he dragged his fingers over the sodden material of her thong. "You better be nice and quiet for me. Wouldn't want your employees to hear you come, would you?"

He eased her back to sit on her desk with a gentle press at her waist, her toes barely ghosting the ground. Her thighs trembled, anticipation building at a steady pace that seemed perfectly in time with the soft stroke of his fingers.

"P-please." She wasn't above begging. It wouldn't be the first, nor the last time she begged for him, and she knew precisely how Theo liked it. He liked her wound up in this tizzy, one step closer to madness with each delicate drag of his thumb over her clit, turning her panties from damp to soaked. "Theo, please."

"Shh." His index finger curled around the gusset of her thong, easing it to the side with a slow determination. "Listen to me, Granger… and listen well." His fingers were on her, pushing through her folds, coating himself in her slick. "You're stunning… gorgeous… the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." He pressed his fingers inside of her with no pretense, curling them and rubbing against that spot that made stars burst behind her eyelids.

"_Holy shit."_

"You're perfect… for me… for Draco… for both of us." Each word was punctuated with a stroke of his fingers until he found a steady pace. "Smart… sexy… I knew from the moment we met I needed to make you mine."

Her nails scraped against her desk, desperate to hold onto something, anything, that might ground her to this moment as her hips canted against his hand. Each push and pull from his fingers drove her closer and closer to what she was beginning to sense was her end. "T-Theo… I… You have to… _Oh fuck_—you have to stop."

His lips were on her jaw, moving down her neck, tongue licking the light coating of sweat just beginning to form across her skin.

"Why on earth would I do that?" His palm ground against her clit, firm, tight pressure sending her reeling and gasping for breath. "You're so close… I can feel your pussy trying to hold my fingers in… begging me to fill you up."

Death by orgasm might not be so bad. It would certainly be a hell of a way to go.

"Did you come like this for Draco? I bet you did… all over his face… his fingers… Did you come all over his cock?"

The combination of his fingers and words and wandering lips finally pushed her to the precipice. Then she was falling, spiralling off the cliff of oblivion into the rocky sea below and she bit her bottom lip until the copper blush of blood spilled across her tongue. Her body shook, wracked with silent, drudging waves, until she was no longer sure where her body ended and his began.

At that moment, nothing mattered. Not the third to their potential relationship, not the employees that lingered just a few feet away at their desks, and certainly not her best friend who would likely get an earful later for walking Theo into her office.

She clung to Theo, letting his fingers work between her legs until the sensation built beyond pleasure, and she had to physically pull his fingers away from her throbbing cunt in order to catch her breath. She knew she was sweaty, her forehead lightly matted with babycurls. She probably looked like a hot mess, but she didn't care. Not now. Not when he'd said such nice, albeit filthy, things about her.

Looping an arm around his shoulders, Hermione dragged him down as she sat up until their lips crashed together. No longer hesitant or timid, she kissed him with two years worth of tampered feelings. Two years worth of affections she wished she could have given him instead of half-expressed feelings and her body.

She carded her fingers through his hair, ruining the carefully coiffed locks. Who cared if he left her office looking like he'd been thoroughly fucked? Certainly not her. Her hands moved over his chest, dipping and curving underneath the bulky muscles that lay beneath his three piece suit. When her fingers hit his belt loop, he did the one thing she was not expecting: He pulled away.

He tucked her underwear back into place, carefully curling them over her mound before he stepped away, putting unwanted space between them. "Now, now Granger." Dark eyes found hers, and despite the fact that she knew he wanted her, he continued backing up. "Don't be greedy."

Greedy?_ Greedy?!_

Her mind spun, whirling like a top as she watched him lift his glistening fingers to his mouth and suck them clean. The heady, intoxicating fog that she'd long since associated with his presence thickened, and she felt a rush of excitement not only increase her heart rate, but also send a wave of warmth trickling between her thighs. Lord, help her. She wasn't a religious woman, by any means, but there _had _to be some deity out there that could help navigate the complexities of this fucking man.

"Mmm. Exquisite." His fingers popped from his lips and he let loose a breathy little chuckle that left her staggering. "Eli is with Ella-Mae tonight and Draco's coming over." He withdrew a handkerchief from his breast pocket and used the pristine white cloth to clean his fingers. "You should come have dinner with us."

"Dinner… sounds nice. I like food."

He glanced at her through thick lashes, a smile sharp enough to cut glass lifting his lips in that way she'd come to crave, and he nodded, slowly tucking his hankerchief away in his front pocket. "Yes, you do. And I've got it on good authority that dinner is going to be excellent."

Her hands moved to her skirt, finding the hem in the bunched up mess about her waist, and she shimmied it over her hips, hoping the wrinkles would smooth themselves free before her 4 o'clock meeting. "I… uh… I don't even know how to reply to that, Theo."

"Just say you'll be there."

"I'll be there."

Theo nodded, plucking his coat from where he draped it over one of the chairs and tucking it across his forearm before moving back into her orbit. He pressed a chaste promise of a kiss against her swollen lips. "Good girl." His praise crimsoned her cheeks. She felt herself practically salivate like Palov's dog, ready to be showered in his affections for just a second longer, but alas, he moved away. "See you in a couple hours, Granger."

He was practically humming as he left her office, a newfound lift to his gait as he disappeared from sight. She, on the other hand, was practically breathless, wondering how on earth she was ever going to make it through a dinner with not one, but _two _handsome men evidently bent on her destruction.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

gods. i need a Theo in my life.

anyways. 3 Hi Ya'll! I hope you're still around and reading. I am going to start back in on regular updates /throws confetti

sorry for my hiatus, but the witch is back!

until next time. xx


	12. Chapter 12

Warning: Chapter is NSFW

* * *

It was just dinner. Just dinner with Theo _and _Draco. She could do this. It was no big deal—right? Just sharing a meal with two insanely attractive men who happened to possess panty soaking accents, who were _also _dating—who she'd_ also _fucked. No big deal. Nothing to fret over. Certainly nothing to twist her stomach into knots over.

Dinner wasn't complicated. It wasn't a promise for _more._ She liked food, they liked food, simple as pie. Except pie wasn't particularly simple, was it? She'd tried, and failed miserably, at making an apple pie last Fourth of July. It ended up more like cinnamon apple mush with a burnt crust. And she would be remiss to forget that pumpkin travesty she'd attempted at Christmas. But dinner wasn't like that… was it? Dinner could be uncomplicated. After all, she wasn't going to be the one cooking.

At least, that's precisely what she told herself as she walked up the familiar path toward Theo's townhouse, nervously tugging down the same skirt that he had bunched around her waist hours earlier.

She had stayed late in the office to finish reviewing a pending desk manual for the team in data analytics, which meant she couldn't afford the extra hour it would have taken her to go home and change into something more appropriate for a meal spent with two potential suitors. Knowing her time was limited, precious even, she opted to threaten Harry with bodily harm if he didn't go feed Crookshanks for her, because technically _this _change in her evening plans was entirely his fucking fault.

Not that she minded, after all, her lunch had been rather _stress-relieving_, but it was the principle of the matter.

Nice girls didn't come on boy's fingers in their office.

Nice girls didn't wonder what the morning commute from Theo's condo was like.

And nice girls certainly didn't have the kind of deeply depraved fantasies that had plagued her mind all afternoon.

After making the small climb up Theo's front porch, she knocked on the door. Normally she'd just let herself in, but something about knowing _both_ Theo and Draco were inside made it feel far more intrusive than not. Sure, Draco now knew the dynamic of her and Theo's _friendship_, and vice versa, but it was different now, wasn't it?

Hermione rocked on her heels, hands nervously smoothing her skirt against her thighs as she waited for what felt like an obnoxiously long amount of time while muffled voices and heavy footfalls sounded from inside the condo.

Did she interrupt something? Surely Theo had told Draco she was coming over… Hadn't he?

Just when she lifted her hand to knock once more, the front door swung open to reveal Draco looking more casual than she'd ever seen him (unless she counted the time she saw him naked). Dressed in a pair of well-worn denim jeans, complete with holes, that were more than likely a stylistic choice rather than natural wear and a plain white v-neck, he looked every bit as effortlessly handsome as she remembered.

He didn't look regal like some dignitary. There were no signs of his hidden nobility. She honestly wasn't sure what she was expecting now that the secret was out. It wasn't like he was going to wear a fucking badge that proclaimed his status—though… It _would _be helpful to avoid these sorts of situations. And maybe he could get free drinks if he did. She really ought to invest in one for him. '_Prince of Gloucestershire'_. Or was it Wiltshire? She never did get a straight answer from Ginny.

What really set off his outfit, though, were his socks. One black and one gray. Mismatched and entirely fucking adorable.

Hermione couldn't help the swell of laughter that bubbled up as the irony of it all sunk in like hot water seeping through a bag of that disgusting tea Theo drank every morning. She'd been treating his nobility as one of the main reasons _this_ should definitely not happen, but dressed in something one might consider haphazard, standing in front of her… Well, maybe there was a chance this might actually work if he, a _lesser Royal_—not that she knew what the hell that meant, but Google told her it was a thing—possessed the inability to find something as simple as a matching pair of fucking socks.

Draco slid his hand up the side of the door, long fingers curling around the edge as he let his forearm pillow the side of his face. His lips lifted in more of a smile than his usual smirk as her laughter tinkled to life, filling the space between them.

"You avoid me for almost a week, and the first thing you do is laugh at me?" He shook his head, gray eyes rolling as a fresh wave bubbled up her throat. "You _really_ are something else."

"Sorry! I'm not laughing _at_ you… it's just… well…" She gestured toward his feet, biting her bottom lip to prevent another slip of laughter when he wiggled his toes. Okay, maybe this wouldn't be so bad. Clearly he wasn't upset by her flight instinct. "You know what? I _am_ laughing at you."

Draco shook his head and took a definitive step backward, tugging the door open wider as he gestured to usher her across the threshold. "How about you laugh at me where Theodore's neighbors can't overhear? Preferably in the kitchen where I've got actual wine instead of that screw top drivel you tried to force on me at your condo."

"Whoa. First off, Two Buck Chuck is delicious. _And _only $2.99! I was being fiscally responsible." Hermione shrugged out of her blazer, hanging it on the coat rack beside the front door before toeing off her pumps. The soft ache of going flat footed after a day spent arched sent an unintended shiver up her spine as she looked around in search of the other man she knew couldn't be far away. "Secondly, Theo has never complained. I'm chalking that up to your royal snobbery."

"To your face."

"What?"

"Theodore's never complained _to your face._" Draco shut the door with a soft snap and reached out to flip the deadbolt, a small detail that she was logging away to give their boyfriend—if that's where this was ending up, of course—shit about later. "Because I can almost assure you, he would rather have a bottle of my choosing."

"Well, sure, but one of the three of us needs to keep you humble. Speaking of Theo, where is he?" Moving through the foyer, Hermione popped her head around the small partition wall that separated the entrance of the townhome from the living room, only to find it decidedly empty except for an out of place gray throw blanket and pair of framed readers she knew for certain didn't belong to Theo.

"He... uh … He said he wasn't feeling well. Something about a sore throat."

Hermione was no expert, by any means, but even with her limited knowledge, she could hear the lie in Draco's voice. "Oh?" Turning around, her head cocked to the side, she watched as the blond slipped his hands into his back pockets and shrugged. "He seemed fine this afternoon."

"Yeah—well, you know how it goes. Nasty bug going around Elijah's nursery."

"Ahh yes. Those pesky illnesses with four hour incubation periods. How silly of me to forget."

"Precisely. So, in an effort not to pass any booger eater's plague onto us, he's decided to call it an early night and graciously allowed me use of his kitchen for the evening." Draco began to walk backward out of the foyer and down the hallway that led to Theo's kitchen, eyebrows lifting as a smile spread across his lips. "Please head right this way."

She'd done a lot of things in this house—been bent over nearly every piece of furniture in her late night visits, chased an adorable toddler down the halls in the early evening, and chatted withfriends when Theo opted to host their conventional crew—but visit the kitchen with the intention of cooking? That was… Well, that was a first.

Truthfully, she couldn't even remember the last time a man had cooked for her, let alone one she was dating. Sure, Harry would whip up a meal every now and then, but that hardly counted. And Theo? Well, their liaisons were more of the take-out kind of situations. Neither of them wanted to worry about cleaning or soaking pans when they both knew the precise nature of their meetups.

"You're going to cook for me?" She followed him like a moth to a flame, fingers untucking the lavender blouse from her skirt so it hung loose around her waist. If she couldn't change into more comfortable clothing, she'd at least make it less noticeable when she wasn't sucking in her stomach to appear more svelte than not.

"You say it like you're surprised." Draco spun on his heel and pushed open the swinging door that led to the room in question. "I am an excellent cook. Did Theodore insinuate otherwise?"

Hermione slipped past him into the kitchen, desperately trying to ignore the way her shoulder brushing against his torso awoke a wave of primal feelings. This was dinner, not a convenient excuse to find herself naked in the arms of the blond. Not that she'd mind—their last date didn't exactly go as planned either. But, regardless, she needed to keep it together.

"If I'm being honest, I _am _a little surprised. Not that I don't think you possess _some_ culinary prowess but… Well…" She moved across the kitchen with a familiar ease. Pulling two stemless wine glasses from the cupboard, she made her way toward the built in wine rack adjacent to the stove. "You did go to boarding school with Theo, and I guess I just assumed you didn't do much cooking before that since your… you know?"

"Since I'm what?"

"Uh… like a Prince or some shit."

Draco claimed a spot against the kitchen island, arms crossed and, from what she could see out the corner of her eye, smirking as she debated between the bottle of Zinfandel and Pinot Noir.

"I am not a Prince, for the record. Not in the sense you're assuming."

"Do you have a crown?"

"There are several in my family vaults, yes, but ownership isn't as simple as you'd think."

"Technicalities aside, you're a Prince." Pulling the two bottles down, she turned to show him the options with a lifted brow. "I'm not saying it like it's a bad thing, _for the record_. It's a bit odd… but not bad."

"I can accept odd But I do hope my family's rank in something as arbitrary as a powerless monarchy doesn't get in the way of us."

_Us. _

The word was so stupidly simple. One syllable. Two letters woven together to create something so fucking impactful it literally made her breath pause in her throat.

Draco didn't seem to notice the weight it held. Instead, he looked between the bottles, as if truly debating which one they'd choose when they both knew damn well that they would likely uncork both before the end of the night. Theo could afford it. A lawyer's salary was nothing to shake a stick at—especially in the Bay Area.

He pushed off the island and plucked the bottle of Zinfandel from her outstretched hand, spinning the bottle around and inspecting the label. "It was hard enough getting to know people growing up. Something about knowing your playmate is a part of the Royal family doesn't bode well for friendships. At least, not real ones."

She could sense a painful story lurking beneath the words. Years of trauma and turmoil for something as silly as being born into a specific family, and even though they'd been born into _very different_ lives, she could identify with that sort of pain more than he would ever understand.

"As much as I enjoy discussing that _dreadfully_ boring part of my life, can we move this topic along to something decidedly less tiresome? Tell me about your childhood. Theodore mentioned you don't discuss it and, well, I must admit I'm rather curious."

Boring? Was he insane? His connection to the Royal family seemed heaps better than the complications with her own childhood. While she could clearly tell his experience was far from picturesque, she would wager to guess it made her own look like a pauper's tale.

"Honestly, there's not much to tell." Placing her hands on the countertop behind her, she pulled herself up to perch on the edge, bare feet swinging idly as she adjusted her skirt down so the cold stone didn't nip at the backs of her thighs. "Bottle opener's next to the dishwasher—uh… Anyway, I grew up in Los Angeles, Inglewood to be precise. Mom worked at the library and Dad taught English at one of the local high schools. Pretty run of the mill typical American family. Didn't have the picket white fence, nor a dog—Dad was allergic, but it was pretty normal."

"Are they still down there?"

She winced at the question, her eyes falling to stare at the brown mica that shimmered in the quartz countertop.

The question wasn't meant to hurt, there was absolutely no way Draco would know, and _this_ particular topic never came up with Theo. I mean, why would it? Discussing her dead parents wasn't exactly high on her post-orgasm discussion list.

It had been approaching fifteen years since she'd buried them, and while sometimes she could have this talk with little emotion, it was moments like this, when someone new entered her life, that it really seemed more painful than not.

"No. Well, yes... kind of… it's—uh… I mean… They're at the Inglewood Park Cemetery so… technically, yes…" Her voice trailed off as she let her gaze drift to her lap, index finger instinctively tracing the small scar that lay on the inside of her knee, her forever reminder of that painful day.

The loud pop of the cork was followed by a deafening silence. She could feel Draco's eyes on her, likely searching for the right words to say, but surely he was smart enough to know that nothing would ever be good enough to cover the wound that was still so raw all these years later.

"Hermione, we don't have to talk ab—"

"No, no." Gulping down the rising lump in her throat, she looked back up and forced a smile on her lips she was certain wouldn't reach her eyes. It never had before when she ventured into this topic. "It's fine. It's been like… almost two decades. And you had no way of knowing so, really, it's not a big deal."

She watched him fiddle with the opened bottle of wine, rolling the peeling edge of the label under his fingernail. His eyes swirled, gray shifting between storm clouds and silver, and she could see an apology already forming in his mind. It was what people did. They said sorry when she talked about her dead parents. It was innate. Human nature even. And she fucking hated it.

He didn't cause the car accident. He didn't force that asshole to drive drunk and he certainly didn't force her parents not to wear their seatbelts. She watched, as if the world was in slow motion, as he opened his mouth, inhaling deeply to start apologizing for something entirely out of his fucking control and her stomach twisted into a painful knot before a syllable could even leave his tongue.

"Don't." She lifted her hand to pause his words before he even began. "Don't say sorry. It's _fine_. I'm over it. It happened, okay? I was fifteen, it was a bad car wreck and… and they never wore seatbelts which is so fucking stupid in retrospect but… but it happened. My childhood up to fifteen was really great. They were amazing parents and loved me. A lot. And everything after was... well... It really sucked, but that's not your fault. So, just do me a favor and don't apologize. I can't fucking stand it when people apolgize and I really like you so… so just do us both a favor and don't."

Her lips pressed together, fingers flexing in her lap as she watched him process the request, as if her words were stones thrown into the sea, slowly sinking through the churning tide of his thoughts to land in the dark depths of what she could only begin to imagine were his own demons.

She knew he might not understand, most people didn't, but she didn't need him to know these feelings intimately, only respect them, and in turn her.

His eyes pulled away from hers, and he turned his attention towards the stemware on the counter and, just as he began to pour the red wine into the clear glasses, a flop of blond fringe fell across his forehead. Silence stretched between them. Awkward. Palpable. Consuming.

Maybe she'd said too much.

Maybe her request wasn't right.

Maybe he finally saw past the carefully crafted cynical exterior she'd spent years developing and to the darkness that devoured her whole.

Maybe he didn't like the scared, broken little girl that lay inside.

Maybe he—

"So you like me?"

A small burst of incredulous laughter tickled its way up her throat, and almost as instantly as her anxiety about possibly being _too much_ began to build, it floated away like the dark cloud it was. Biting her bottom lip, she relaxed back on the counter top, upper back pressing into the cabinet as she watched him approach with the filled glasses.

"I… think you're interesting."

"Mhm." He edged between her thighs, hips nudging her legs wider until he fit perfectly between them. "Continue."

Taking her glass, she held it between her fingertips as she leaned in so she could drape an arm around his shoulders, her eyes lifting towards the ceiling as she hummed in thought. "You're fairly smart—though that makes sense because clearly your parents could afford a good education."

"Only the best."

"I would say you're humble, but clearly, we both know that's not the case." She smiled at him—no, beamed—like a fucking idiot. Despite all of the reasons she _shouldn't_want this, she did. She wanted him, not just in the bedroom, but _this._ This playful banter after a long day at work. She wanted to get to know him, to be vulnerable and show him her scars. She wanted to open up to him, and allow herself the possibility of happiness. Moreover, she wanted all of the things that came with a relationship—not just with Draco, but also with the man who was hiding upstairs, allowing her the opportunity to get to know his significant other.

His elbows came to rest on the counter as his hands splayed wide across her back, his wineglass long forgotten beside them. "Are you calling me self-absorbed, Hermione?" He cocked his head to the side, that playful lift to the corner of his mouth returning. "Because I seem to remember paying you quite a bit of attention during our rendezvous at the Ritz."

"I never said you were a poor lover. Just a tad bit arrogant is all."

"Well I suppose it's good to know where my talents lay."

"Yeah. Your mouth is pretty high up there—other things… maybe not so much."

With the tension thoroughly shattered to a million little pieces, she allowed herself to relax in his arms, enjoying the feel of his touch. Her relationship with Theo had been so uncomplicated for so long that it was easy to fall into a similar rhythm with him. With Draco, though, it almost felt like second nature, like they were two broken souls wandering the planet destined to find solace in one another.

He was nearly as sarcastic as she was, seemed not the least bit put off by her less than charming sense of humor, and even enjoyed the same random tangents she lost herself in from time to time (Oxford comma usage, this is dedicated to you). He didn't seem like he was just placating her, but rather like he wanted to get to know her—the real her. And truthfully, she wanted to let him.

Her smile slowly faded as she caught his gaze, losing herself in his smoke colored eyes. The color was unlike anything she'd ever seen before, probably due to what she could only imagine was centuries of a carefully curated bloodline—he was Royal, after all. The color was indescribable, filled with so much warmth and depth that they practically shimmered in the soft light of the kitchen. Around the outer edge was an almost metallic sheen the same color as storm clouds heavy with rain.

Just as she envied Theo for the beautiful dark green that colored his eyes, she found herself pining after Draco's as well. She wondered if Theo felt the same staring into Draco's eyes, or vice versa. If they were still victims of each other's heady gaze or if, after fifteen years, that spark was replaced by a comfortable build.

And, just like that, staring into his eyes, her mind wandered to the mysteries of the dynamic of their relationship. She had only heard so much before from Theo: Disjointed stories and mentions of a mystery man who was clearly more real now than ever before.

At once point, she'd even wanted to meet Draco to give him a piece of her mind—to tell him to shape up or ship out because Theo deserved more than he was willing to give.

But now? Well, now she was seconds away from kissing him breathless and begging him to take her up to Theo as well. Seconds away from doing something she wasn't entirely sure she would ever be able to recover from.

In one swift motion, his arms tightened their hold and he swept her off the counter, one hand falling to cup her ass, while the other held her tight against him. Hermione let out a small yelp of surprise, arms curling around his neck as her legs wrapped tighter around his tapered waist. "Draco!" She felt wine slosh up the sides of the glass, droplets falling to Theo's pristine flooring, but Draco didn't seem to mind. "Put me down! What are you doing?!"

He moved them across the room toward the island, ignoring her wiggling protests, clearly a man on a mission. His deep laughter mixed with her own, and soon she felt the nip of cold stone against her thighs as he eased her onto the kitchen island. "I need to start our dinner. Couldn't very well leave you all the way across the kitchen now, could I?" He pressed a gentle kiss against the tip of her nose, something that felt far more intimate than anything else he'd done to date, and slipped from her hold to gesture to the brown Trader Joe's bag just beside her.

"You could have asked me to move, you know? With words like a normal person." Setting her glass down, she swept her fingers across her skirt to pull some of the red wine from them.

"Ah, but you've already found out about my dark secret, remember? I'm not normal." Draco unrolled the bag, withdrawing a small styrofoam flat of chicken.

"Oh trust me. I didn't forget." She crossed her leg, her hands folding over her knees as she watched him lay out the ingredients for their dinner. Mushrooms, chicken, stock, shallots, and garlic. She wasn't a real big fan of mushrooms, but maybe, if she was lucky, she could pick around them without being too obvious. "Speaking of which… Do you _really_ have a crown?"

Draco hesitated, mid-fold on the bag, his movement pausing for half a second, almost like a skip in a record. She could make out the smallest flash of dread in his eyes, the mere mention of his family—or rather designation—seemed to bring forth a sense of apprehension.

"Technically speaking, they're not mine. They're in family vaults… But, for the sake of simplifying this, yes. I own a crown… or two."

"I bet you look nice in them." It was a weak compliment, even she could admit that, but she needed to say something—anything—to bring levity to a topic that was so clearly weighted. "Maybe you can show me one day?"

"Show you?"

"Yeah, like your crowns and stuff. Could be fun." She lifted her shoulders, picking up the wine glass as she took a much needed sip. "We could drink too much and take turns wearing them or shit. Oh! Or you and Theo could each wear one and I'll pick who looks best. Like some Royal fashion show or something. I'll warn you, though, I'm a biased judge. So, whoever wears less clothing is likely to win."

His trepidation seemed to fade at her outlandish suggestion, and the soft boom of his laughter filled the thick silence that'd settled between them only moments earlier. "That actually sounds like a brilliant idea."

* * *

Dinner had been… interesting.

If the poor excuse for Chicken Marsala was any indication of his Draco's prowess in the kitchen—well, she thought he was really lucky he was cute.

The chicken was soggy, the gravy oddly lump, and the mushrooms undercooked. But Hermione didn't dare utter a single disparaging remark about the terrible meal. Instead, she ate as much as socially acceptable before claiming to be so_ooo full_.

Draco, for his part, seemed satisfied with the amount she ate, and a tad bit smug by the time they claimed space on the couch and settled in to watch some TV. It was only eight o'clock and, yes, technically she _did _work the next day, but she found it really hard to make herself leave.

Especially considering they'd given up pretending to watch _90 Day Fiancé_ about twenty minutes ago, Instead, they'd opted for a healthy dose of over the clothes foreplay on Theo's couch.

"Fuck, Hermione." He groaned into her lips, hands pausing their caress up her sides as she ground down into his lap a bit more. Her skirt hiked up her thighs even higher, threatening to expose the pair of sensible panties beneath.

"Shh." She giggled—actually fucking _giggled _like a school girl—when his hands promptly slipped down her sides to curl over her ass, squeezing the soft flesh as he pulled her hips closer to grind up into her.

With Theo, even from the very beginning, it had been about business. Get naked as fast as they could, light foreplay followed by an absurd amount of sex. It was all about that end goal—and while she had zero complaints, there was something almost naughty about the slow tension that flowed between her and Draco.

He palmed her breasts through her blouse, pinched at her nipples, and tugged at the collar of her shirt until her buttons strained. He ate every whimper with each careful caress of his tongue and begged for more.

His hands wandered, lower and lower still, until she felt the hem of her skirt slip over her backside and his fingers met her bare skin. It was her turn to swallow a deep moan of what sounded like bliss. Her fingers, having long since found their way into his blond hair, moved to his shoulders, bracing herself as she rocked her hips into his. The only barrier between them was the thick layer of his denim and damp cotton of her thong.

Each brush against his body set her nerve endings aflame, and she could feel the distinct bulge of his manhood growing firmer with each roll of her hips. They should stop. They _really_ ought to stop. For as okay as Theo was with this, she highly doubted he'd want her to fuck his boyfriend on his couch.

His tongue twined with hers, eliciting even more whimpers and soft moans as they rocked together, like they were horny teenagers as opposed to thirty year old adults. But it was the build to this moment that really made it difficult to think of a reason to stop.

Draco was charming. Fuck, he was smart and absolutely fucking gorgeous. It was impossible to deny that what she felt for him went beyond a normal crush after half a bottle of Zinfandel, and they were well into the bottle of Pinot by now.

To say Draco was _her type_ would have been an understatement. He made her laugh, made her think, and marched every one of her snarky comments. He kept up with her ever wandering mind and sparred her over what she considered to be the absurdity behind the single-use plastic bag ban in California.

He was everything she looked for in a date—minus the whole bad at cooking thing—but they couldn't all be perfect, right?

Besides, she could always just crash supper at The Potter's when in need of a home cooked meal.

His lips left hers, trailing across the column of her throat and she tipped her head back to allow him more access as her own fingers tapped across his chest, feeling the hard, lithe muscles that toned his torso before.

"Hermione… I… Can I?" His voice was raw—raspy and rough—as if he'd smoked countless packs of cigarettes in the hours before greeting her at the front door. His fingers hooked into her thong, tugging lightly at the flimsy cotton, and before she could even begin to second guess how utterly inappropriate it was, she nodded.

Rising up to a tall kneel to assist as much as she could without actually having to take her hands off his body, she let him drag her thong over her ass and down her thighs, lifting each knee with about as much finesse as a baby gazelle. Draco managed to slip the material from her body with only minimal damage to her Victoria's Secret 5 for $30 special.

With her knees bracketing his hips, she settled back in his lap, affording just enough room for her hands to drop to his waist and begin to fiddle with the top button of his jeans until it finally relented and unthreaded.

"Are you fucking kidding?" The question was breathed to life when her fingers found _another_ button as opposed to a zipper, and she looked up to Draco with a cocked brow.

His pupils were wide, cheeks red with the tell-tale flush of desire, but the small smile that tugged on his lips told her that he found her disdain for his expensive jeans and their damn button closure amusing. "What?"

"Unbutton them yourself." She lifted her hands away in surrender, chewing on her bottom lip past the point of adorably cute as she watched his fingers work open each button until a pair of black and gold Versace boxer briefs came into view.

He worked his jeans lower, pushing them until they bunched just above his knees, his skintight underwear leaving little to the imagination. Her thighs trembled, anticipation reaching its climax as she watched him hook his thumbs into the thick waistband and tug them lower and lower until the red weeping head of his cock sprang free.

Jesus, he wastalented.

Gifted, even, or was it blessed?

If she had known high breeding meant having a massive cock, she would have started fucking nobles years ago.

Her tongue swept across her lips as she reached down, index finger tracing the thick vein that ran up his length. She heard a tremble in his breath, each wisp of air hitching in his throat as she let her fingers explore the velvety soft skin encasing his cock.

God, he was built beautifully. Tapered waist, milky smooth skin, not a single visible scar adorning his body. Even Theo, in all his hulky man meat glory, had _some _scars from his childhood. But Draco? Draco was absolutely pristine. Untouched. Unsullied. And the primal part inside her wanted to mark him, claim some unbroken skin on his body as proof that, for some space in time, he'd belonged to her.

She shifted closer, stroking his cock as she closed the already narrow distance between their bodies, and she shivered when his fingers found her waist, slipping under her skirt to hold onto the jut of her hips as she rose up.

"C-Condom?"

Oh shit.

_Right._

They'd used them last time they were together. Nearly an entire fucking box of them. They probably _should _use them again. Technically, while it was not the second time they'd slept together, it was only the second occasion. And she was still getting to know him… and—

"I'm clean. I understand if you still want to but I am… I've—uh… only been with Theo recently. Well, him and you..." She looked up, eyes locking with his own and she felt a sudden burst of nervous energy twist at her stomach. Would the mention of Theo be too much? Yes, they were poly. Yes, they dated (and evidently slept with) other people. But, as far as she knew, this would be the first time they _shared_ a partner.

She didn't know if that fact made her feel honored, horny, or crazy enough to be put in a damn psych ward.

She watched his adam's apple travel the column of his throat, his eyes flicking between her face and very exposed cunt, as if weighing out the practically of what they were seconds away from doing,

"Are you on the pill?" His thumbs swept across her hips, tugging gently on the soft skin, before his eyes finally found hers once more. She let loose a little wisp of breath in relief that she hadn't completely ruined the mood by mentioning the man upstairs.

"IUD." As badly as she wanted to make a poorly timed joke about having Royal bastards, she highly doubted now would be an appropriate time. Especially since she might fucking spontaneously combust if he didn't touch her the way her body so desperately needed very, very soon.

Her answer seemed to suffice, because Draco wasted zero time leaning back up to claim her lips once more as he applied gentle pressure on her hips until she felt the brush of his cock at her core. Her fingertips trailed down to the base of his manhood, holding him firm as she slowly lowered herself.

Inch by excruciatingly slow inch, Hermione settled back down onto his lap until where he ended and she began blurred into one. Her breath caught in her throat, the blissful sensation of feeling so utterly full preventing her from filling her lungs properly, though that could also be from the way he was kissing her.

Like she was perfect.

Like she was all he needed at this very moment.

Like they hadn't just discussed birth control like two rational adults mere seconds before.

With one hand curling around the back of the couch, and the other cupping his cheek, Hermione rolled against him, rocking her hips to the gentle rhythm of their breathy whispers of moans and whimpers.

It wasn't like at the Ritz. This was less romance and more fervor—the way his tongue curled and twined with hers, the way his hands guided her hips to and fro, controlling the pace with a firm grip—but it was equally as satisfying.

She wanted this with him. Not just the sex, because lord only knew how fucking great this was, but she wanted to come home to this: poorly cooked dinners and breath stealing kisses. She wanted bruises the size of his fingerprints across her skin. She wanted the taste of him ingrained in her memory forever.

For the first time in what felt like ages, she _wanted_ to be with someone.

And, somehow, knowing that Theo was upstairs, waiting, letting them figure out their side of this polyamrous triangle… Well, it kind of made it all worth it because she already knew how she felt for the brunette. Though she'd denied it for years, the desire to be more with him was forged long ago.

Her thighs burned, muscles tight and already fatigued, when she broke their liplock, her forehead pressing against his as her pace increased to a steady bounce. Her hand slipped down his jaw, thumb trailing over the firm flutter of his pulse that beat in his throat like a hummingbird's wings, and she moved to grip his other shoulder.

His name mixed and mingled with her soft moans until she wasn't certain there was a time in which it didn't belong on her tongue. That steady tension that built directly below her navel pulled tighter and tighter until every descent left her gasping as he hit new depths inside of her.

His hands moved, roving over the curve of her hips to grab fistfulls of her ass, encouraging, guiding, physically moving her faster and harder until she was certain there was absolutely no way Theo couldn't hear precisely what was occuring on his sofa.

"W-Where should I—_fuck_ that feels good." Draco tipped his head back, blond hair spiking at odd angles as he arched up into her, holding her steady as he thrust into her from below. "I'm close. Where c-can I—"

"Inside me." She gasped back, stars bursting behind closed eyelids as she leaned in to rest her sweat stricken head against his shoulder. She had an IUD, the likelihood of her falling pregnant was miniscule if her track record for unprotected sex with Theo was any indication. And, truth be told, there was something intimate about it that left her begging for him to listen.

With a grunt in response, sensing her own impending climax, Draco doubled his efforts, holding her afloat as he thrust upward, filling her again and again, each time bottoming out and bringing that technicolor light show flaring to life behind her eyes.

This was too much.

The feeling of him filling her so perfectly.

The burning trail his hands left across her skin.

Knowing he wanted her just as much as she wanted him.

Just as quickly as it began, Hermione found herself muffling a sharp cry against his shoulder, teeth sinking into the taut muscle of his trapezius to prevent the sound from leaving the living room.

Distantly, she could hear a loud curse followed by her name. Combined with the feeling of his cock pulsing deep inside of her, she was so lost in the churning tide of her own end that she barely registered what was happening.

Every nerve in her body burned, as if she'd been bathed in fire. Each twitch between her thighs dragged her further and further under its spell until she felt like she might never resurface for air.

She sat slumped against his chest for far longer than she cared to admit, her lungs burning with each frantic breath that she inhaled. Her fingers had absentmindedly found their way back into his hair, carding through his silken locks, pulling a soft rumble of content with each scratch of her blunt nails against his scalp.

Easing back slowly, careful to not move too fast so that he slipped from between her thighs and made a mess in his lap, she looked down at his flushed face. His eyes were half-lidded—sleepy, content—but the pink that tinted his cheeks would have told anyone who walked in exactly what occurred. If, of course, she wasn't still naked from the waist down in his lap. Leaning in, she pressed a soft kiss on the tip of his angular nose.

"I should probably go."

Draco's hold didn't fall loose. Instead, it seemed to curl tighter around her waist, anchoring her to him as he settled back into the couch. "Absolutely not. It's late, you can't drive home in your state and there is a perfectly comfortable guest bed upstairs that I intend to sleep in with you tonight."

Guest… bed.

Her heart fluttered, despite her better judgement, and she cocked her head to the side, watching as his eyes scrunched shut when a wide yawn pulled his mouth open. Surely he'd want to go check on Theo, sleep beside the man who'd claimed his heart for the past fifteen years. Wouldn't he? After all, he was forgoing his AirBnB for the night and opting to stay here so he—

Oh.

_Oh._

He wasn't staying here to be with him. Not that his sleepover wouldn't have the added benefit of spending more time around his boyfriend. No. This little _date_ was some plan Theo had put into the works. An opportunity for her to get to know Draco more. A means of making their connection deepen.

"Theo's not sick, is he?" The question felt so obvious, like she shouldn't even have to ask to know the answer, but the inklings of doubt had formed into mountains so large it was impossible to ignore.

Draco's fingers paused their journey up her spine, and he pressed his lips together as his shoulders lifted in the smallest shrug humanly possible.

"Define ill."

"You two are assholes. You know that, right?" Her words might have had their intended impact had she not laughed through the delivery. She wasn't mad, nor even perturbed by Theo's little match making attempt, but if he had wanted them to go on a fucking date, he should have just said so instead of luring her over here with pretenses of a joint dinner!

"Don't blame me! I didn't know until he bolted upstairs the moment you knocked." Draco's hand left her back to sheepishly card through his fringe, gray eyes softening in the dark light of the living room. "If you _want_ to go, I don't blame you, but… I'd really like you to stay. I won't keep you up late _and _in the morning we can both properly chastise Theodore."

Well, that did sound promising.

And if she was going to date both of them, she would have to grow accustomed to being around them at the same time without feeling like a guilty ball of nerves, right?

"I don't have any pajamas."

"You can borrow my shirt and I'll knick a pair of boxers from the bedroom."

"_And_ I do need sleep."

"A full six hours is all I can promise."

She narrowed her eyes at him, studying the way hope colored his gaze silver and she knew now why it was so fucking hard for Theo to say no to this man. He was… damn near perfect. Like some soft little puppy practically preening for affection. Who was she to deny him even an ounce? "Okay."

His smile split his face in two, pearly white teeth gleaming up at her and the hand that had moved to his hair lifted to curl around her cheek, thumb stroking across her jaw. "You'll stay?"

"I will."

He gently guided her down until their lips hovered mere inches away from one another.

She expected another breathless kiss, a toe curling fever that might pull her back into that primal dance they'd just finished, but instead, he pressed a feather light, chaste kiss on her lips, the brush of his mouth over hers barely even registered. "Good. Because waking up beside you might be the best thing I've done in years."

It seemed so foolish now, to think that she might not fall impossibly head over heels for Draco.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

not sure what to put here this time. I am slow and steadily writing. thank you for all the kudos, reviews, follows, etc. you all rock!

until next time. xx


	13. Chapter 13

The weekend flew by in the blink of an eye. Friday morning she woke in the comfort of Draco's arms, shared a cup of tea with Theo—begrudgingly, because God forbid he have actual coffee in his cupboards—and managed to make it into work with time to spare before her nine am meeting.

Saturday was spent with the Potters, per usual, playing Fortnite with Teddy, berating Harry while he cooked, and lounging with Ginny in their master bedroom watching _Toddlers and Tiaras_ and shit talking overbearing parents.

As much as she wanted to dive head first into the dynamic of dating both men, gradual ease was a much safer approach, and one she was honestly thankful for. The concept of polyamory wasn't new to her, she'd read about it and discussed it with Theo more than once, but she had never imagined herself being involved in such a relationship.

It wasn't that she was ashamed or embarrassed by the thought. No, not at all. But it was just that the fantasies of her future had never before involved _two _partners. She didn't mind now, of course. Adult Hermione was very intrigued by that particular prospect, but even she could admit that a slow approach was probably best.

Theo had made it abundantly clear he wanted to make the three of them work, and intended to put forth the effort needed to make that happen. Which evidently included devoting time to Draco and giving Hermione some much needed alone time with arguably the most important people in her life.

By the time Sunday morning's rays broke through her bedroom window and stirred her from her slumber, she was looking forward to a quiet day in. She needed to do some light cleaning, laundry, snuggle a grumpy orange cat, and planned to break the spine on her latest Barnes & Noble purchase.

Though someone seemed to have other plans.

She'd been halfway through the mountain of delicates that sat beside her washer, and only two chapters in, when a knock at the front door pulled her from her reverie. She hadn't ordered lunch, Harry and crew were currently in San Francisco at the Planetarium, and she was absolutely not expecting any visitors as she _never _made plans for Sundays.

Which is why, when she pulled open the front door, she was more than a little surprised to see Theo. Sheepishly hiding her mismatched set of pajama loungewear behind the door, she blinked up at him. "Uh… Hello."

"Hi." He wore a tricolor hoodie and a pair of low-slung Nike joggers, the black athletic material hugging his muscular thighs. His hair was messy, no gel or pomade forming it into its usual artfully disheveled state. Had she run into him in the supermarket, she might assume he was hoping for a relaxing carefree day just like she was. The reusable cloth tote that dangled from his hooked fingers, however, told her this visit was definitely not happenstance. "Can I come in?"

"Um. Sure. Sorry, I just—I wasn't expecting company." Her hand instinctively moved to the nest of curls on the top of her head, trying to twist some of the loose ends into her bun as she stepped back to open the door. "Just ignore my laundry… and the mess. Maybe just ignore like, my entire condo? I've got a sleep mask if—"

"Granger, stop. You're fine. I highly doubt it's as bad as you're claiming." Theo's laugh was like music to her ears—deep, rumbling, soothing. From the very beginning, she'd drooled over the sultry baritone of his voice and now was no different. She would feel her will drop, her reasons for why he shouldn't see her and her condo in such a state suddenly paper thin. "I know it's a bit presumptuous of me to just come over uninvited. Especially on a Sunday, but… Well, knowing you, you probably haven't bought groceries in a while and I felt obligated to make sure you're eating something of substance."

"Cold Brew totally counts as substance."

"I said eating."

"I _eat_ the ice."

He snorted in disbelief, but clearly wasn't interested in engaging in the whole 'ice chips can be food' debate, at least not now. He moved into her condo, slipping past the growing pile of clean clothes she had yet to fold, and moved to set the tote on her kitchen counter. "I took the liberty of picking up some things. I was hoping you might want to take a break from your solitude to eat lunch."

Shutting her front door and flipping the deadbolt, Hermione watched, with mild curiosity, as he began to remove things from the tote. A tomato, lettuce, a load of what looked like wheat bread. "I mean you're already here so I might as well take advantage of your company."

"That's the idea, but I figured giving you the option to decline was only chivalrous."

"Oh? So you're a gentleman now?" Hermione slipped into the small space beside him, picking up the bag of organic popcorn that he'd just set on the counter. She couldn't help but snort because while she didn't mind opting for the healthier alternative to certain things in life, popcorn was absolutely not one she'd personally substitute.

"Now? What are you talking about?" He moved around her kitchen with surprising familiarity, spilling past her overflowing sink without so much as batting an eye as he made a beeline for her cupboard to remove a cutting board. "I've always been a gentleman."

"Ha! Hardly." She untwisted the tie from the loaf of bread, tossing it on her counter before removing four slices. "Gentlemen absolutely _do not _say the things you whisper to me when you think no one else can hear. And they certainly don't steal a lady's underwear."

"First off, you love the filthy things I say so let's not try to pretend as if I am offending some sense of propriety you suddenly have. I know, for fact, that while Draco isn't the most verbal in the bedroom, his mouth isn't entirely clean, my dear." Pulling a knife from her block, he settled back beside her, taking the bread to lay it out on the cutting board.

Her mind couldn't help but wander, thinking of the two together had been a recurring theme in her fantasies since the big reveal—as Ginny called it While she wouldn't consider herself a voyeur by nature, she would be hard-pressed to deny that her interest was piqued by the thought of witnessing them together behind closed doors.

"Second, I didn't _steal_ them. You can come collect them any time you wish. They're at my townhouse, in my nightstand."

Biting her bottom lip, she forced the explicit fantasies to the back of her mind and shook off the shiver that prickled her skin. "Whatever." She pushed the tomato toward him, watching it roll against his fingers. "Mustard?"

"Please."

Tucking the mayonnaise in the crook of her arm, she pushed through the half-filled condiment bottles to locate the yellow monstrosity. "Speaking of Draco, where is he?"

"At my house. When I left he was napping, but I suspect he's probably up by now snooping about my things."

"Oh… wasn't this supposed to be like… your time together?" She was fishing. She knew Theo would see right through her carefully chosen questions, but based on the way his smile seemed to broaden, it appeared he wasn't bothered. Closing the refrigerator with her knee, she set the condiments down beside the cutting board and unscrewed the mayonnaise jar for him. "Not that I mind the solo visit. Your company is always welcome."

"Why thank you." He winked, already mid-slice through the tomato. "We spent yesterday afternoon together with Eli and had the evening to ourselves. It was nice to connect with him again, but he doesn't have to monopolize all of my spare time, you know? And visa versa. If I can speak plainly, I think we're both eager to spend time with you independently _and _together. I've got fifteen years of memories with Draco, but only a handful with you."

The notion sent a flurry of butterflies swirling to life in the pit of her stomach. They wanted to spend time with her? Like she was some sort of first place prize as opposed to that cute-funny friend that tagged along. She'd spent so long hiding in the shadows, pretending like it didn't bother her that she wasn't someone's first pick, but here she was, for what was like the first time, earning a pedestal in the hearts of two men she was literally incapable of choosing between. And moreover, they weren't even asking her to make that decision.

They wanted her _and _each other. And while it didn't make sense—not even to herself, she was growing more and more comfortable with the idea that their little tri-prong approach to a relationship might not be such a bad idea.

Theo and Draco were distinctly different.

Theo was funny, charming, regularly earning a smile or fit of laughter with his antics. He was kind and caring, a devoted father and friend. He was cozy and familiar, like her favorite hoodie. She knew precisely what to expect from him. She found herself perfectly okay with being around him in ragged joggers and ratty t-shirts because he wasn't the type to judge or find flaws in her character. While in the bedroom he was undeniably in charge, in life he was flexible about things she was so rigid on. She envied the cool and collected demeanor he fell into, and wished to learn how to be more okay with just letting the pieces fall where they may like he was.

And Draco?

Oh, Draco. Nobility aside, Draco was probably the closest thing to a knight-in-shining-armor that Hermione had ever known. He opened car doors and offered her his jacket. He bought dinner and sent her flowers. He was a literal walking wet dream, and, somehow, he was entirely into her. The level of attention he paid to her felt borderline criminal, and truthfully made her wonder when he was going to grow bored of her because she wasn't _that_ interesting. She certainly wasn't the type of woman to bring home to meet Mom and Dad. Yet, he kept coming back, texting her before she even woke up, sending her little goodnight notes, and reminders that he was thinking of her.

Where Draco was new and exciting, Theo was warm and comfortable. The combination of both of their affections felt heady, and left her in a near dream like state. Sometimes she thought she was only seconds away from waking up only to find out this was make-believe.

"Granger?"

Hermione's eyes snapped up from where they were boring holes into her countertop, lost in thought. "Yeah?" Gulping down the weird tidal wave of emotion that threatened to pull her under, she smiled up at Theo, head tilting to the side ever so slightly.

"No mustard for you, right?" He gestured to the beginnings of the sandwiches in front of him, thick brow arching.

"Yeah." Her bobbed as she gave him a quick nod. "No mustard."

The detail was trivial, something so absurdly stupid, but the fact he remembered her preference tugged at her heartstrings, and she couldn't help but think the last two years a bit of a waste. Had she known—had she been more aware instead of self-deprecating—maybe she would have noticed his interest. Maybe they could have spent the last couple months dating, exploring the dynamic of this budding relationship.

Though, she didn't regret not knowing. She'd had quite a bit of fun over the last two years, and not knowing brought Draco into the picture rather organically.

No, not knowing made much more sense.

"I can get out of your hair after you eat." He set her sandwich on a napkin, and slid it across the counter before picking up his own. "But… I _did _bring a book if you want company."

"Oh?"

"Mhm." He nodded with a mouthful of sandwich as he turned to face her, pressing his hip into the counter in a far too casual lean. "I've been told I am an excellent snuggler, and don't even make remarks while I'm reading, unlike someone I know who shall remain nameless."

"Draco?"

"I said nameless, Granger. Christ, get with the program, woman."

"Oh right, of course." She laughed, nibbling on the thick crust as she cast a coy glance up at him through thick lashes. "But it's Draco, right?"

"Yes. It's Draco."

"_Ugh_, really? That's literally awful."

"Positively dreadful." Theo set his sandwich down on his napkin, rubbing his fingers together to knock loose any crumbs clinging to his skin. "I've tried to break him of the habit over the years, but I'm afraid it's ingrained now."

"How sad. He seemed so perfect."

"A shame, really." Theo moved closer, not an ounce of hesitation as his hand found the curve of her hip, thumb stroking across the jutting bone. He tugged her to meet him in the middle of the narrow space. "So… Can I stay? Keep you company?"

How could she possibly say no? An offer to read alongside a devilishly handsome Brit? Surely she'd have to be mental not to agree. But there _was _one small, teensy, tiny problem.

She wasn't certain they'd be getting very much reading done, based on the way his eyes seemed to darken as she thought on his offer, and well… shark week had just descended, and while some people might be alright with that sort of thing, that was a very hard limit of hers.

"I would like that, but…"

"But?"

Setting her own sandwich down beside his, she let her hand fall on his forearm, fingers pressing gently into the firm muscles. "But I feel as if I need to provide full disclosure that _if_ you stay, there won't be any sort of funny business occurring."

"Funny business?"

"Yes… you know…" Her eyes widened and she motioned between the two of them. "_Funny business_."

"Oh, you mean shagging?" His brow furrowed slightly, dark green eyes swirling with confusion, and just the twinge of hurt. "That's fine. You are aware that's not my _only_ interest in you, right?"

"No, no, no. I know!" Okay, this was already off to a bad start. She needed a do-over. "I just… ugh… I mean I felt like you ought to know before you agree to spend a day trapped in my condo."

"Again, not that I mind, in the slightest, but… why?"

Her lips pursed, hands fluttering against his arm, and she could feel her cheeks begin to crimson. Of course he'd ask why. It was only human nature, right? And she was a fucking adult. She could have a conversation about something as entirely normal as her period, right? In the past, it wouldn't have bothered her. She could probably still find old texts letting him know she would be out of commission for a week due to Aunt Flo's visit.

But it felt different now that he was… _dating _her.

"Uh… I'm uh…" Her voice cracked, like some pre-teen, and she shifted her weight between her feet nervously. "_I'monmyperiod_."

"Try running that by me one more time… and enunciating."

Fuck him.

Fuck him and his stupid crooked smile and good hair and broad shoulders.

Fuck him for wanting to know, and telling her that he was fine with just her company.

Fuck him for showing up with groceries and making her a delicious sandwich, because as much as she wanted to tell him to not worry about it, she felt obligated to provide him the answer he was seeking. The very last thing she wanted him thinking was she wasn't interested in him. No, she owed him some sort of explanation, and fuck if the truth wasn't entirely awkward.

"I'm on my period." Her lips lifted in a forced smile as her cheeks flamed red. "Is that clear enough for you?"

Theo nodded, brows lifting slowly as he pressed his lips into a thin line. "Yep. Crystal." He averted his eyes as he tried to mask his laughter under a sharp clearing of his throat.

She was mortified, like the time she'd decided wearing white pants camping was a good idea. Her hands moved to his chest, gently pushing him back so she could slip free from his hold. "Okay. Now that that's over, I'm going to go—"

"Aww. Don't be sore." His laughter rang through his words now, deep and booming as he moved to capture her other hip, pulling her close as his arms slipped around her waist to cradle her against his chest. "It's fine—you're fine! It's nothing to be embarrassed about."

"I know that, asshole!" Hermione huffed, and yet, despite being fully aware of this fact, she couldn't reason with herself to shake that teenage humiliation that bubbled inside. Her arms moved around his middle, despite herself, on their own accord as she hid her face in his chest, nuzzling against his sternum.

Theo, in all his infinite wisdom, opted to stay silent, only letting his laughter ring to life as he ran a hand up and down her spine. Rocking her lightly in his arms, they let the odd tension and subsequent humiliation from the moment pass into the void of comfortable silence.

With her ear pressed against his chest, she let her eyes drift closed. The steady thump of his heart acted as a metronome to her anxiety and she allowed his comfort to bring her back down to reality.

"Granger?"

"Yeah?" She dared to tip her head back, chin resting on his chest as she peered into his eyes. Maybe this wasn't so bad. Mildly embarrassing? Sure. But this held nothing on the time she'd accidentally farted on him, and he was clearly still coming around so that couldn't have been _so bad. _

He lifted a hand, thick fingers sweeping across her hairline, pushing the loose curls behind her ear with just the hint of a smile tugging the corner of his lips. "You do realize your mouth doesn't have a period, right?"

"Oh fuck off!"

* * *

**Author's Note:**

hello lovelies. so I am late on this and I am so sorry—this is 100% me and not my beta who had this ready to go on Tuesday. I am just slacking but hopefully you'll like this little chapter. I honestly debated cutting it from the story but I thought it was needed to show how much Theo wanted to pressure a relationship with Hermione vs just wanting sex. that being said, I hope you enjoy.

Thanks for my whole team - dreamsofdramione, lissadean & lumoslyra for making this fic what it is. thank you for all the readers who stuck by during my hiatus. I adore all of you.

you can find me on facebook msmerlin eff and I am active in 'the restricted section: mulit & triads only'. come find us and interact!

until next time. xx mm


	14. Chapter 14

It had been almost two weeks since the whole '_meet-my-cute-kid'_ debacle, and while this all could have ended in spectacularly horrible fashion, instead, it seemed to flourish. Hermione wasn't certain why it was working. Truth be told, the comfort and ease that they had all fallen into with one another still astounded her, but she wouldn't let herself second guess it.

In her limited experience, dating was always complicated. And messy. _And _generally one giant cluster fuck.

Men usually didn't text back, and she almost always over-thought every single detail: unanswered texts, stilted conversations, and heaven forbid, weird body language. It all meant something much larger in her mind.

But this? This was different. It was… nice. _Easy_. She had the advantage of already being comfortable with Theo after two years of friendship, and it seemed she was quickly approaching the same level of familiarity with Draco.

What really seemed to solidify the warm fuzzies that filled her every time her beaus were mentioned was her best friend's acceptance. It hardly happened overnight. She'd had to assure Harry—_countless _times—that Draco and Theo were not a part of some kinky sex cult set out to entrap single women, and _no_, they were not forcing her to date them. But slowly, his tone changed to that of a sarcastically cautious big brother.

Harry's apprehensive approval, coupled with the slow approach that Theo insisted upon seemed to be the perfect combination for success in her mind. She was able to take her time and grow accustomed to the idea of having a semi-open relationship with two men.

They had yet to try a group date, and Theo would not even broach that subject, insisting they all need to get used to dating individually before they even humored forming a _triad_-Hermione _still _wasn't certain what the hell that entailed, despite extensive Reddit research.

Despite her complaining.

Despite Draco's vocal disappointment.

Despite the painfully obvious attraction they all shared for one another.

But she had to agree that it was for the best. She was still getting to know Draco, and was only, just now realising how deep her connection was with Theo. So, even though the little devil on her shoulder that damn near demanded these men take her to bed, preferably together, she allowed herself to take her time.

They dated independently and got to know one another, or in Theo and Draco's case, reconnected, but kept the lines of communication open. Fluid and informal. Their group text was filled with future plans, peppered with comments on where Theo should take Draco on their date nights in the city, and Theo's less than helpful remarks—like Draco should keep Hermione far away from bowling alleys (she accidentally skips a lane_ one time_ and suddenly she's _rubbish_).

Tonight was different though.

Tonight, she _insisted _they do something, together, and she refused to take no for an answer.

While Theo was all slow and methodical, Hermione was ready to dive into the choppy waters of this 'triad'—if that was even a real word. Frankly, she was sick and tired of waiting around for him to be certain she wasn't going to get spooked and run off into the great unknown. It had been nearly two weeks, and while yes, a fortnight was not long (thanks for the reminder, Theo), it was long enough for her to realize that she _did _want this. She wanted _them. _

"Pineapple? On pizza? God, Americans really are heathens." Draco stood opposite Theo's kitchen island, sprinkling a healthy amount of cheese over his own rolled-out crust. The only way she'd been able to convince Theo to agree was under the stipulation that their _date_—if it could even be labeled as such—would be a night in.

With entertainment options limited, Hermione decided to bring over 'make-your-own-pizza' ingredients and the small stash of board games she had purchased over the past couple of years.

Armed with Candyland and Pale Ale, she figured that if this was going to be all they were _allowed_, she was going to damn well make the best of it.

"Whoa, okay, first off pineapple on pizza is delicious. Secondly, I didn't hear you complaining about my _Godless_ ways on Monday when you stayed the night." Out of the corner of her eye. she watched as Theo's hand paused in its mission to smear red sauce over every inch of his dough. His movement skipped like a broken record.

Taking her comment in stride, Draco did not even seem to notice the subtle tick in his boyfriend's motion as he began to layer pepperoni and green onions over the cheese. "I'm a man of good taste, Hermione. My aversion to pineapple on pizza and apt participation in defiling you only adds to my accolades."

"Seriously?" The sharp tink of the metal spoon against the mason jar of sauce rang out. Theo let out a deep breath, hand lifting to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Can you two _please_ refrain from discussing shagging each other in my presence? If I stand any chance at making it through tonight without spontaneously combusting, I don't need those mental images in my head."

"What? You mean you don't want to think about how she didn't wear knickers under her dress?"

"_Ugh!_"

"Or how we ended up shagging in the shower Tuesday morning?"

"Draco!" Hermione launched a pepperoni across the island at the blond, unable to keep the laughter from bubbling up her throat as Theo dramatically folded in half and pressed his head into the cold stone countertop. "Be nice. He's pent up."

"_He's _pent up? Arsehole won't even so much as touch me now that you're around for some stupid reason. Wanting to preserve the anticipation or some equally as daft reason." Draco picked up the rogue pepperoni, tossing it in his mouth before sprinkling a small layer of parmesan cheese over his prepared pie. "By the time I saw you I was damn near ready to—"

"Okay, that's it! Out of the kitchen." Theo was moving before she could even blink, long-legged stride carrying him around the island toward Draco. He gave his boyfriend a gentle nudge toward the exit. "I'm kicking you out. You're banished."

Draco scoffed. "Banished? For what?"

"For making it really bloody difficult to concentrate on making fucking pizza." Pushing him to the threshold, he shooed Draco off to his living room and didn't move until the blond flopped onto his couch in a dramatically playful fashion. Hermione couldn't help but notice the way Draco snatched the remote the instant Theo turned around and happily settled into the overstuffed cushions.

"You know he did that on purpose." She didn't bother to look up once Theo moved beside her. The corner of her lips lifted in just the hint of a smirk as she twisted the edge of her dough up to create a small crust.

"Of course I know, Granger." Theo pressed his hip against hers as he leaned across the island to pick up the bowl of black olives, despite the fact that he could've easily made the stretch without touching her. "I've known him since we were eleven. I know all his little tricks."

"So you let him think he gets away with it?"

"He's a spoiled brat. If I don't let him win every now and then, he pouts, and while he does look rather adorable upset, I figure we can save those sort of dramatics for at least month three—four, if we're lucky."

"Oh?" Biting her bottom lip, she lifted her gaze from her haphazardly put together pizza to watch as Theo began to put his toppings on his own pizza. Even now, casually dressed in a pair of light wash denims, a gray t-shirt, and barefoot Theo looked down right delectable with a James Dean-esque lock of hair that artfully hung across his forehead. While she wasn't certain why either of these men had any sort of interest in her, she was becoming more and more willing to forgive their clearly questionable taste in favor of their company. "You plan on keeping me around that long?"

Theo laughed, that soft, breathy little laugh that made her belly tighten and warmth pool between her thighs. "Oh, I think we intend to keep you around far longer than that, Granger."

* * *

Dinner went better than she expected. Their respective pizzas turned out delicious and the bottles of wine Draco had picked from Theo's collection ended up pairing well with their home-made pies—something he claimed was planned, but Theo was all too quick to point out how full of shit Draco was when it came to having a palate for wine.

With full bellies, they found themselves on the couch, browsing through what felt like a million choices on Netflix until finally deciding on various stand-up comedy acts. While not exactly her favorite, Hermione allowed the selection to pass. It ended up acting as background noise to their conversation anyway as they polished off their second bottle of wine and moved onto their third.

"You know—" Hermione pushed up onto her elbows, thick curls spilling down her back as she looked down the couch toward what she was beginning to think of as _her men_. "I haven't seen you two kiss before."

Draco sputtered into his wine glass, droplets of the burgundy liquid splashing on his alabaster skin and dribbling down his chin as he quickly leaned forward to set down his glass. His hand rose to cover his mouth, fingers wiping away the trickle of wine,

"And? What on earth does that have to do with playing tag in Draco's castle?" Theo cocked his head to the side as he lifted a thick brow.

"It's not _my_ castle." Draco was quick to interject mid-cough, silver eyes watering. "It's technically the Queen's."

"Oh, right... because legal property semantics are _really_ needed here." Theo lifted his hand to his hairline, fingers carding through the thick mess of dark waves. "Regardless, I don't believe that story had anything to do with us snogging. We were at least… what? Four years too early at that point, Mylo?"

Pulling her feet back from Theo's lap, Hermione pushed herself against the arm of the couch, tucking her feet underneath her as she sat on her knees. "Absolutely nothing, but I was just thinking—"

"Wait, you mean to tell me while I was recounting an innocent tale of wonder from our childhood, you were daydreaming about us snogging?" There was a spark in Theo's eye that immediately made Hermione not only keenly aware of how small his couch actually was, but how devious that look made him seem. She knew that look, intimately well, and even without the wine coursing through her veins, she would have felt that familiar heat creep across her cheeks.

Her tongue darted across her bottom lip before she sucked it into her mouth, chewing on it as her eyes flickered between her two boyfriends. Draco, who seemed to have made a full recovery from his near death-by-inhaling-wine experience, held a similar expression to Theo. Mischief, a tad-bit of brashness, and, of course, that same smoulder.

"I mean… I wouldn't call it daydreaming." She ran her hands across the tops of her thighs, blunt nails scratching lightly against her black leggings. "I was just _thinking _is all."

"About us snogging?" Theo pressed back into the corner of the couch, his arm lifting to trail across the back so his fingertips ended just at the opposite of Draco's shoulder. "Seems rather naughty, wouldn't you say, Draco?"

"Positively debauched." She watched a flash of tongue peek through Draco's lips as he pressed it against the tip of a canine. His smile slowly began to transform into a wolfish smirk that made her press her thighs together.

This was okay.

This was fine.

She could do this. Be brave. Tell them what she wanted to see. What she wanted them to _do._ I mean, after all, this was her night to take charge, wasn't it? Her night to direct the relationship and—

"Did you want us to kiss?" She didn't know how long she'd lost herself in her tornado of thoughts, but Theo's question pulled her back to the forefront of her mind like she'd been splashed with a bucket of cold water.

Did she want them to kiss?

Was he a fucking moron?

Of course she did!

She wanted to see them do _lots_ of things.

That still felt _slightly_ odd. She'd only recently humored looking up threesome porn, and solely based on her curiosity about trying to figure out what kind of positions and things they could do should the need ever… arise.

"Yes."

The word slipped from her lips before she could even wrap her mind around a quick-witted answer, because while she wanted to play this coy, she clearly lacked the ability to hide her hand.

The men exchanged a silent look that evidently spoke of a plan between them. A millisecond later, Theo was guiding Draco toward him with a steady palm on the blonde's jawline.

Her heart seized and her eyes widened. Despite her internal monologue telling her to calm the fuck down, she could feel the breath stick in her lungs as she prepared to watch something that had only recently began to play behind closed eyes on those particularly lonely nights when Draco and Theo were off on their weekly date.

She expected fireworks, on all ends.

She expected a proper make-out session.

She expected fucking epic, porn-like kissing.

What she didn't expect was the gentle peck Theo placed on his boyfriend of fifteen years' lips. As if Draco were his grandmother instead of his fucking lover.

"There." Theo swept his thumb across the sharp of Draco's jaw as he pulled back, dark green eyes finding hers. "We kissed."

"A-Are you… Are you _fucking_ kidding me?" Hermione, who had leaned forward unintentionally during that slow motion montage, let out a small growl, her hands lifting to her hair, fingers slipping into her curls and pushing them back from her face. "That… that… _That_ totally doesn't count."

"Count for what? You just asked for a kiss and Theodore happily obliged." Draco lifted his shoulders in a shrug she was sure was supposed to be innocent, but the gleam that colored his gray eyes silver seemed like a stark contradiction.

"That wasn't a kiss—not like.. Like, you know? A kiss-_kiss._" They knew precisely what they were doing, it was impossible for them not to, but Hermione found herself falling prey to the trap that they seemed to set in record time.

"A kiss-kiss?" Draco hummed as he tapped his finger against his lips, light eyes cutting over to his boyfriend. "Not sure I've heard of that one before. What about you, Theodore?"

"Afraid not." Theo pursed his lips to the corner of his mouth as he shook his head, fingers tapping idly on the back of the couch. "Would you care to show us what you're looking for? A visual aid is always helpful. I'm sure Draco wouldn't mind being your partner."

"Oh, not at all. After all, you want to be sure you meet her expectations."

Those… fuckers.

Well three could definitely play that game.

"How stupid of me to forget that both of you, _educated men_, would need fucking visual aids to help." Hermione made a show of pressing her palm to her forehead with a well-timed eye roll. "Of course." Not bothering to wait for a sarcastic reply, Hermione started across the narrow couch, crawling over the cushion and landing directly in Draco's lap.

Her knees settled on either side of his hips, rump coming to rest in the cradle of his thighs, and she tried her best to suppress the shiver that ran up her spine when she felt his hands rest on her waist. "So, a kiss-kiss, or a _snog_ as you weirdos call it"—Her eyes flickered over to Theo, making sure to catch his gaze before she looked back down at Draco whose head was resting on the couch—"goes something like… Well, this."

It was juvenile, childish even, this cat and mouse game the three of them were playing, but when she leaned down to press her lips against Draco's, the silliness of it all seemed to fade away.

Draco's lips felt soft against hers, gently guiding her lips apart before his tongue slipped inside her mouth to brush against hers. She could taste the lingering hint of red wine still on his tongue, the earthy bloom combined with the distinct taste of his kiss only seemed to drive her deeper into his arms.

Her fingers started at the base of his neck, tickling the cropped hair, before they tangled on the back of his head as she leaned in. Her heartbeat thumped in time with his, erratic, wild, the same unsteady rhythm that it always found the moment his mouth met hers. She really ought to be more familiar with it by now, it _had _been a couple of weeks, but she wasn't certain she would _ever _get used to him.

Draco's hands drifted up her sides, sliding beneath the cotton tee, and brushing against her skin. Just when his nails scratched against the bottom band of her bralette, she felt the pressure of another hand on her lower back, and the soft caress of Theo's baritone tickling the curls around her ear.

"You two look so bloody perfect, Granger." Theo's hand slipped lower, his index finger teasing the elastic band of her jeggings at her hip. She could feel the cushion dip lower, and the soft press of Theo's body against her side as he leaned in. "Snogging. Touching. I could watch you all bloody night, but I'd much rather join in..."

A soft whimper bubbled up her throat, and just as she began to lose herself in the bliss that was Draco's touch, a firm hand slipped into her curls and guided her mouth away from Draco's eager kiss to find a new set of lips.

Theo's kiss was demanding, no soft nibbles or gentle strokes of his tongue against hers in an attempt to coax the kiss deeper. No, Theo knew precisely what he wanted and made no qualms about taking it. The two men couldn't have felt more opposite, yet both fueled the fire of desire inside her in completely different ways.

Her spine arched as Theo craned her head back to deepen their kiss, causing her breasts to press against Draco's chest. She could feel his chest rumble with a moan.

This should feel inappropriate. It should make her feel like a tainted woman, having Draco's hands slide across her skin, his fingertips teasing the swell of her breasts as he worked her bralette up beneath her shirt while Theo stole the very breath from her lungs. But it felt right, like she belonged sandwiched between them, absorbing every ounce of love they wanted to give.

She didn't believe in fairy tales, nor one true love. Hell, she hardly believed in the concept of marriage. But this? This mind-numbing euphoria of having the attention of two very different lovers was absolutely something she could get behind.

Theo ended the kiss as roughly as it began, tugging on her bottom lip with a toe curling pressure before he began to kiss his way down her throat. He worked across the sensitive skin with opened mouth kisses, tongue lavishing every inch he could reach on his way across her chest until his mouth hit the neckline of her cotton tee.

Her world felt topsy-turvy, like she was Alice lost in some sexually driven wonderland. God help her, she would eat or drink whatever was placed in front of her.

Draco worked her bralette over her bosom, her shirt pooled on his wrists, and before she could begin to think of detaching herself from either man to slip it off, she was topless and Theo's teeth ghosted across her right nipple.

This was too much.

This was too fast.

This was probably inadvisable...

_Oh, God._

Her mind struggled to keep up with the two sets of wandering hands, two presses of lips, the attention they lavished upon her. It was like being inside a storm, every brush of fingertips and puff of breath against her skin pulled her attention away from the previous blooms of bliss, and she couldn't focus on one individual man because they seemed to be working in tandem toward the common goal of her inevitable demise.

Death by bliss.

Death by spontaneous combustion.

Death by Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott.

No jury on earth would convict them, not when they looked so fucking charming.

Her fingers slipped through Theo's hair, blunt nails scraping his scalp as she arched into his eager mouth. A slow roll of a shiver followed Draco's fingers down her spine as Theo nibbled her nipple taut in his hot mouth.

And as much as she wanted _this_—which she would have never been able to deny—the slow, sinking realisation that they were in Theo's living room began to breach the lustful haze that clouded her mind.

She'd had sex on this couch more times than she cared to admit. She was rather fond of this particular piece of furniture, but she didn't want to christen their first time together as a triad on it. No. It was _supposed _to be done right—_properly_.

She bit back a whimper when Theo suckled gently on her breast as Draco arched his hips up into her so she could feel the evidence of his desire against her core. Hermione gently tugged on Theo's hair until he detached from her with a soft pop and whine.

Theo's eyes were blown wide, only the smallest hint of forest green appeared around the endless pools of black. His cheeks were flushed and that all too familiar animalistic need was present. For a moment, Hermione almost threw caution to the wind and told herself that the couch wasn't _that_ bad.

But that pesky asshole, logic, prevailed.

She hated it.

"Bed." The single syllable word was forced off her tongue with a heavy breath as she looked from Theo to Draco, who appeared nearly as lust conquered as their boyfriend—_their boyfriend_. The term still felt foreign within her mind, but that was precisely what they were to one another… Wasn't it?

She had two boyfriends. In turn, they had her and each other.

Tonight, it appeared, they were going to finally solidify the foundation of this relationship that had been simmering for what felt like an eternity—though, rationally she knew it was only a couple of weeks.

"Huh?" Silver eyes flicked from Theo to her, and those adorable three little furrow wrinkles set across his brow, as if he didnt hear, or just couldn't comprehend her request since he was so lost in the fog. She couldn't blame him. With each passing second, the couch sounded more and more like a reasonable option.

"Granger." Her last name was low and rough on Theo's tongue. A warning—no, a promise—of what was to come, and God help her for the thrill of need that pulsed through her with that low rumble. She was a strong-willed woman, of sound mind (90% of the time), and would consider herself a feminist, but the way her name danced off his tongue made her want to do things that would make her late mother blush.

Her nails bit lightly at Theo's scalp as she wiggled off of Draco's lap before slowly releasing her hold from the brunette's hair. She could do this. She was a smart, educated woman. She could convince her two male model-esque boyfriends that this little tryst would be much better upstairs in Theo's bedroom. She just needed to calm her runaway labio.

"Granger what are you doi—"

"I'd like…" Her voice trembled, not with uncertainty, but with a need that felt as if it seeped from her very pores, further engulfing her with each passing second. "I'd like to go to your bedroom."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

excuse the late update. lift is insane. speaking of which, I am working on chapters as quick as I can but I am truthfully struggling with keeping momentum. I can promise weekly updates, but no guarantees as to the day. don't hate me.

major thanks to dreamsofdramione! beta queen and truly a gem of a friend! she has some amazing fics, check them out. immediately.

find me on facebook by looking up msmerlin eff.

until next time. xx


	15. Chapter 15

Warning: This Chapter is NSFW

* * *

Her brain _sizzled. _

Actually fucking _sizzled _like that terrible commercial from childhood.

_This is her brain on drugs._

Except it wasn't weed, or cocaine, or any sort of fucking amphetamine that made it impossible for her to think straight.

No, it was her boyfriends mere feet away on Theo's plush bed, kissing, groping, touching one another. She never in her wildest dreams thought she'd be privy to this aspect of their private life, let alone take part in the kinky wonders of Draco and Theo's bedroom antics. Even now, as she watched Theo's hand curl around Draco's cock, stroking him at what seemed to be a near tortuous pace based on the way Draco jutted into Theo's palm, well, it all seemed surreal.

This _had_ to be a fever dream.

Maybe she'd fallen and smacked her head.

Maybe she was really at UCSF Medical, asleep while doctors fixed whatever ailment she had.

Her request to move to the bedroom had been taken well, and both men took their time undressing her upon arrival, but just as they started to do things to her body that she could only begin to describe as worship, she made them stop.

She felt like she was seconds away from spontaneously combusting, and really didn't want to end up hyperventilating before they got to any _real_ action.

So, she'd asked for space.

She'd asked to watch.

She'd wanted to see the way they worked together.

It was all so new, seeing the two men so openly express desire and affection for one another. Theo wanted intimacy, and Hermione knew from numerous conversations that he absolutely craved it from their boyfriend. It was something of a sore spot between the pair, but right now? Watching the way their tongues peeked between sealed lips, watching the way Draco's hand wandered over the thick planes of Theo's body, fingertips dancing across the solid muscle, it was hard to imagine they had any sort of intimacy issues.

In hindsight, the request to watch them kiss and touch one another probably wasn't advisable given her desire _not_ to spontaneously combust. She probably should have asked for water instead, but again, her ability to make sound decisions jumped out the window the moment they'd laid her bare.

Theo nipped at Draco's lower lip, tugging gently on the soft flesh and pulling a small groan from the blond who seemed too pliant in his hands. He kissed his way across Draco's throat, pausing to nibble gently on his Adam's apple before latching onto the soft skin at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. While Theo's mouth teased Draco's body, his hand continued its work in a slow rhythm.

Hermione could feel the warmth between her bare thighs, an undeniable amount of wetness gathering the longer she watched them in this mouth-agape, awestruck fashion that seemed more appropriate for a peeping tom than an acting participant in their wicked bedroom games.

Theo moved lower, caressing every dip of Draco's near-flawless body with his lips, until he reached the jut of Draco's hip. The temporary disappointment that had filled her when the two men stopped kissing blossomed into something more wicked at the sight.

Once upon a time she was a good girl.

Okay, maybe not _good_, but she certainly wasn't filthy. Now, though, it seemed like holy water wouldn't even be able to cleanse the sins coursing through her mind.

"Granger."

The slow rumble of Theo's voice made her thighs clench, fingers flexing against the bedspread helplessly. "Hrmm?"

Forest green eyes turned on her, and Hermione sucked in a breath so sharply she would have been embarrassed if she wasn't so damn turned on.

"Come here." It wasn't a request, and lord help her, she wasn't going to argue.

Pushing up off the pillows she'd claimed as support for her spine, Hermione crawled across the king size bed towards Theo. He was now laying flat on his belly between Draco's parted thighs, fist still working a lazy pace up and down their boyfriend's weeping cock.

"Theodo—_Oh fuck."_

"Quiet." Theo's fingers flexed tighter, providing enough pressure to leave the blond breathless and Hermione heard a soft whimper and couldn't be certain if it came from her or Draco. Lifting his free hand from Draco's thigh, Theo flicked two fingers up the length of their boyfriend's body. "Up on his face, Granger."

Five words.

Five fucking words had never before sounded so amazing.

For a moment she just sat there, awestruck over the idea of actually participating in the depravity. She wanted to move, to join in and lose herself, but she forgot how to do anything beyond breathe. Her brown eyes flickered from Draco's flushed face down to Theo's smoldering gaze, as if one of them might have the answer to break her from this spell.

"Draco would love to taste your cunt." The corner of Theo's lips lifted in a slow smirk and suddenly her mouth felt dry. How he managed to always make her feel _this_ way, even years later was amazing. "Wouldn't you, Draco? Tell Granger how much you want to bury your face in that sweet little pussy."

"P-Please. Hermione let me—_fuck!_" Draco's hips lifted off the mattress, his breath caught in his throat with a sharp crackle when Theo's mouth descended upon the head of his cock. His fingers flexed in the air, arms reaching for Theo's hair but clearly thinking better of taking control over the very obvious dominant in their relationship. "Hermione, please… _please_ let me taste you."

Her stomach tightened, and the low rumble of Draco's staccato parted the fog within her mind just long enough for her to crawl up the length of his body. Her fingers brushed over the valleys created when his abdominal muscles tensed and up the center of his chest.

Draco wasted no time finding her waist, hands digging into the curve of her hip as he tugged her closer and closer until she had to lift her thigh to clear the rise of his body. Her hands pressed against his chest, as she nudged up his body until her knees met the pillow on either side of his head.

His hands moved over the softness of her hips and curled around her backside, gripping generous handfuls as his eyes dragged down her body to settle between her thighs.

She should have felt embarrassed—bashful even, being so exposed—but it was hard to feel even an ounce of shame when he looked at her that way. Like she was a goddess on earth, everything he'd ever wanted.

Reaching out, she curled one hand around the headboard, and her other dropped to rest on the crown of Draco's head. Fingers wove into the flaxen locks and she tipped his head back with a gentle pull as she rose up on her knees and closed the distance between his mouth and the apex of her thighs.

Her eyes fluttered shut, the warmth of his tongue slipping between her folds. He wasted no time in winding his tongue around her clit just the precise way she liked. He played her like a fiddle, seeking the subtle nuances of her preferences far quicker than she thought possible. It was almost mind-boggling to think that Draco and Theo had not whispered secrets of her body to one another late at night in the beginning.

She knew they did now, though; Theo had made no attempt to hide that fact.

"That's it, Granger," Theo encouraged her from behind. His low baritone sent a shiver down her spine as she rocked her hips against Draco's eager mouth. "You look so fucking beautiful… perched on his face… like a bloody queen on her throne."

"_Oh God."_ Her eyes rolled towards the ceiling, behind closed lids, and she let her head tip back, nails scratching lightly against Draco's scalp as she felt that familiar tension build low in her stomach.

She wasn't going to last long, not with Draco's tongue between her thighs, and Theo's filthy words, and the mental images of the two men touching one another so deeply burned into her psyche. She wasn't certain there would be a time she wouldn't think of them together.

But as that wave began to crest, the blissed out nirvana of an impending orgasm making her thighs quiver and heart race, she tried to fight off the feeling. She wanted this to last just a bit longer, to live on the precipice of bliss with her boyfriends—_her_ men for just a few more minutes.

"You're right there, aren't you, Granger?" She heard his words before she felt new hands on her skin. The press of rough fingertips against her back, walking up her spine followed by the rush of heat as Theo pressed against her.

She felt his cock nestle against the small of her back, a slow swipe of pre-cum smearing across her skin as she leaned back into his embrace. Her fingers curled tighter around the headboard as she nodded. "_S-so_ close."

Theo's wandering hands trailed across her skin, leaving fire in their wake. One crept lower, fingertips plucking and twisting at her nipple, as the other climbed higher and gently curled around her neck. His thumb and forefinger tightened, not enough to restrict her airway, but enough to make everything feel slightly fuzzy.

"You're such a good girl for us, Granger. So fucking perfect." He nuzzled against her ear, nose ghosting across her temple as he drug slow, methodical kisses across the high of her cheek. "You want to come, don't you?"

"Uh-huh."

"You _want_ to be our good girl—our filthy girl?"

She gulped, the action made difficult by Theo's large hand still wrapped around her neck. The hand in Draco's hair tightened into a fist, pressing his head firmly against the pillow as she took control of her pleasure, rocking and rutting against Draco's tongue and mouth.

"That's it. Keep going," Theo purred in her ear, teeth nipping at her lobe before he sucked it into his mouth. His hand at her breast moved lower, and lower, over her quivering abdomen and south still until his fingers joined Draco's tongue, sliding between her sodden folds.

She cried out, gasping for air as she arched off Theo's front when his fingers pressed over her swollen clit, nestling the bundle of nerves between the valley of his fingers. Draco and Theo moved in sync, as though it was a planned attack on her body.

Draco's finger dug into her backside as he moved lower until his tongue lapped at her core while Theo took control of the most sensitive part of her body. Quick, hard swirls of his fingers, and sharp nips from his teeth across her shoulders, and it was only mere seconds before she fell.

The only sound she could decipher was the steady pulse of blood rushing in her ears. Distantly, she knew she was crying out. She could feel the vibrations of Theo's encouragement rumble against her back, and soft kisses from Draco against her inner thighs, but all she could focus on was riding the wave of bliss that made her body sing.

Every nerve ending was aflame, each of their touches sending shockwaves across her skin. She slumped back against Theo, and before she could even open her eyes, strong arms were moving her.

The warm presence of Draco's body between her legs disappeared, and soon her head found a pillow. Cracking one eye open, she watched as Draco scooted closer to her, a narrow distance between them and in the dim lighting she could see the unmistakable sheen of her essence on his lips and chin.

Theo moved behind his boyfriend, dark hair peeking over Draco's shoulder as he curled over to pepper the blond's skin with affectionate kisses.

That should have been enough, one mind blowing orgasm to last her a lifetime, but selfishly she wanted—no, _needed_—more.

She'd waited two fucking weeks to convince Theo to climb into bed with her and Draco, and she was going to be damned if she tapped out after the first round.

Lifting her hand from the mattress, she cupped Draco's face, thumb sweeping gently across the sharp angle of his jawline as she molded her body to his. Her thigh lifted, leg curling over the milky skin of Draco's hip and she let her heel rest against Theo's side as she moved closer, until the hot prod of Draco's cock pressed against her sodden core.

Draco stiffened under her touch, nails leaving small crescent moons on her thigh, and he sucked in a breath so sharp she thought he might steal all the oxygen from the room. "Hermione… you—"

"I want this." Eyes searched his, and her fingertips danced lightly across his jaw to his mouth, where she traced the shape of his lip. "I want you… and Theo." It wasn't exactly a confession, nor a surprise—they were dating after all—but putting it into words… Whispering the truth into the universe… Well, that made it real. It made these feelings she'd been battling with—_agonizing_ over—for the past couple of weeks so fucking real.

But she was ready.

Ready to commit not just to him, but to Theo—to this relationship. She was ready to risk it all just to see if maybe _this_ was what she needed, because from where she stood, the world only seemed to make sense with them both in it.

Draco's eyes left hers to peer over her shoulder, and when the mattress dipped, she knew he was watching their boyfriend settle in behind her. A warm hand found her lower back, applying just enough pressure to encourage her arch until the head of Draco's cock slotted against her entrance.

Lips found her shoulder, soft and delicate as they moved across the skin on her back, causing her eyes to flutter shut under the attention. "Draco, _please_." It was her turn to beg, hoping, praying that the sweet whimper she gave as she rolled her hips against his might be just enough to get the blond to cave to the impulse.

Draco's hand loosened its fierce hold on her thigh, and he moved down to hook his thumb under her knee. He pulled her leg higher on his body, opening her to him like one would a book. Her hamstrings sang, the slow burn of her body being manipulated catching up after riding his face mere moments before.

Had she known having sex with both of them was going to be akin to a fucking Olympic sport, she might have tried to prepare. Maybe stretched more. Maybe cut back on the late night Ben and Jerry's—maybe, but probably not.

Before another whimper could pass through her lips, Draco filled her. His cock slid home, stretching her sex until his hips were flush against hers and that incredible feeling of being filled to the brim made her belly clench and her toes curl.

Theo mouthed against the skin on her shoulder, likely cursing the image before him, though Hermione couldn't quite make out the words. Not when Draco began to set a pace that lit a fire deep within her soul.

Her hips rolled in time, matching his steady rhythm, encouraging his cock to slide deeper and deeper within her until she swore she could feel him low in her belly. Her head lulled back against Theo's chest, throat made available to either man like a wolf surrendering.

She was theirs entirely—theirs to do with as they pleased, and if this was what her future looked like—late nights, frolics in Theo's massive bed, mind-numbing bliss—well then, she was more than prepared to find her place in their pack.

"So beautiful." Theo's lips were at her ear, barely grazing against her skin. She felt his cock nudge against her lower back, hard and heavy, his arousal painfully evident. "You two are so bloody perfect."

"_Uh!"_

"Does it feel good, Granger?" His hands ran languidly up and down her sides, nails biting just lightly against her skin. "Having Draco's thick… cock fill you up… he's so good to your sweet… little pussy." Alternating between whispering in her ear and nibbling on her lobe, his wicked words seemed to be affecting them both.

Each utterance made Draco's pace pick up just slightly, his hips snapping with a harder, more driven rhythm.

"I want to see you come… but you're not allowed to yet, beautiful…" Theo's hand moved across her belly, fingers slipping over her sweat-stricken skin. "Not yet… Not until I've had my turn."

His turn? Oh god. The idea sounded sinful. It sounded impossible. It sounded fucking amazing. Her pussy spasmed, clenching around Draco's cock as the prolonged desire seemed to pull her closer towards insanity. "Oh god—T-Theo, I—"

Theo clucked his tongue, two fingers tapping against her mound directly over her clit and she let out a small noise of surprise.

"_Fuck_!" Draco hissed, his forehead hitting her shoulder, damp blond hair sticking to her skin. "Bloody fuck, Theodore…. D-don't do that to her again." He was close, too. She could feel that distinct tremble in his thighs and fingers, like he was fighting back the urge to give in and find his end.

"Oh, but I think she liked it." The rumble of Theo's voice thrummed through her back as he leaned over her shoulder to nudge Draco's head up before pressing a firm kiss against his lips. "And I think you might have, too."

Draco's hips stuttered, his thrusts pausing as he leaned into Theo's kiss. Flashes of their pink tongues were nearly her undoing, but her body held out, listening to Theo's edict.

Lifting her arm, she looped it over Theo's shoulder, anchoring his body to her, while the other slipped down to join Theo's where it had settled almost posessively over her mound. She guided his fingers lower and lower until the blunt end of their fingertips brushed across Draco's hard cock still nestled in her body. The curious touch seemed to be enough for both men.

Draco broke the kiss and a slow trickle of profanities slipped from his tongue as he began to pump into her body once more. His fingers dug into the tender skin on the back of her knee, and although she was certain there would be Draco-sized bruises marking her skin, she couldn't deny the pain-pleasure that egged on her own bliss.

She felt Draco's cock twitch as he found his end, his growl of completion echoing around them. He ground his hips against hers, some primal sort of instinct to make sure every last drop of his seed was planted deep inside her body, and when he pulled out, she felt it dribble across her thighs.

Her body quivered, though she wasn't sure if it was from adrenaline, her tired muscles, or perhaps being so close to coming for a second time. Maybe it was a combination of all three.

Draco didn't release his hold on her leg; instead, he began to open her up further, pushing her knee back from his hip. Working in sync once more, Theo guided her back until she was reclined against him.

"What a _good girl_."

Hermione's pulse raced with the praise, her blood thick with lust and the need, the want, to be _good_ for him. She gulped the sex-tainted air and sank her fingers Theo's hair, rooting him in place as she wiggled her ass against him, scooting up on the bed until his cock slipped down the cleft of her ass to slot between her sticky thighs.

"Eager." Draco chuckled breathlessly, staying close, petting her sweat-soaked body after Theo took ownership of holding her legs open. His hand moved down her thighs, painting soft swirls across her skin, until it slipped between her parted legs and she felt the brush of Theo's cock at her swollen sex.

Sex with Draco was like reading an old book. The pace was slow, even at its peak, but satisfying. She was never left wanting, and found herself breathless by the pure intimacy of the act.

But sex with Theo?

Sex with Theo was like skydiving. The adrenaline pumping, body aches for days after, you hurt me so fucking good kind of feeling. And it seemed like that was going to be true even when he _shared_ her.

With one fluid thrust, he breached her body, giving her no time to adjust before he set a rough pace. Each brutal snap of his hips echoed around them, like some off-kilter metronome that her lungs desperately tried to match with gasping breaths.

"So fucking… tight." He growled through gritted teeth, soft grunts following each time he'd bottom out deep inside her.

Her eyes fluttered to the back of her head, mouth moving in silent pleas of ecstasy as she absorbed each thrust and eagerly awaited the next.

Theo knew her body perfectly by now, twisting his hips just so, using the exact force that made her pussy spasm around his cock until she sat just on the brink of another orgasm, trembling and pilant between her lovers.

Though she couldn't be certain with her eyes closed, she would bet Draco watched, eyes hooded with lust, those cloud gray irises marveling at the way Theo seemed to play her body as easily as a harpist plucked strings.

It didn't take long, her body could only fight off the impending climax for so long, and with the way Theo worked himself into her body, hitting that_ perfect _angle, she soon found her voice well enough to beg for her release.

"_Please—ohgodohgod, Th-Theo, please."_

"Come."

She felt incoherent, babbling through the fog, but the moment Theo uttered his allowance, Hermione shattered. The single syllable word was all the match she needed, and her body was the waiting fuse.

Her world went black, devoid of color for the briefest of moments before stars burst to life. Behind tightly shut eyelids, galaxies bloomed, nebulae forming in a beautiful array of colors. This intense pleasure, the build of what was beginning to feel like marathon sex, nearly consumed her.

She clung to Draco and Theo, grounding herself to this plane of existence as she rode out her pleasure, gasping, shouting, crying through the orgasm that left her boneless and out of breath by the time she finally came down.

Theo's cock was still buried deep inside her, and she could feel the sticky evidence of his own end slip out from where their bodies were joined. His arms wrapped posessively around her and Draco, hand curling around the blond's hip, securing him to her front.

Hermione felt two sets of lips on her skin. And distantly she could hear their praise, and declarations of devotion to her, but it all seemed to drown under the rushing thump of her heart beat.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

not entirely sure what to put here. sorry for the minor delay in this chapter, my muse likes me... sometimes. huge thanks to Disenchantedglow, LumosLyra, and DreamsofDramione for whipping this chapter into shape. After taking my small break, this was my first attempt at smut and I was super nervous.

until next time. xx


	16. Chapter 16

When the morning light breached Theo's bed, Hermione had no desire to detangle herself from the human knot in the middle of the king size bed. It was warm beneath the thick comforter. Theo's chest was rather comfortable, and Draco's snuggling skills were fucking exceptional.

But her bladder was ten seconds away from bursting, and she _really was not _interested in wetting the bed.

She ignored the blossoming ache between her thighs as she crawled over Draco, dropping a gentle kiss on his forehead. He stirred just as she slid off the bed and tiptoed across the disheveled bedroom.

Though the room no longer smelt of sex, the evidence of their coupling was apparent. While societal norms told her that she should feel shameful about bedding two men, she couldn't help but smile as she surveyed the wreckage on her way to the master bathroom.

They were hers.

Her men.

_Her boyfriends._

She was thirty years old, by all means a grown fucking adult, but that word still did funny things to her. It made butterflies burst to life, and gave her that warm and fuzzy feeling in the center of her chest.

It wasn't love—no, no, it was far too fucking soon for _that_—but she could one hundred percent attest to being utterly infatuated with each man individually _and _together.

Making quick work of emptying her bladder, Hermione managed to tame the beast that was her curls before exiting the bathroom. While she was gone, Draco had apparently claimed her spot on the bed. The blond was curled up against Theo, an alabaster arm draped around Theo's tapered waist, holding him close.

She debated crawling in behind Draco and playing big spoon for a little while. A lie in did sound nice considering her body felt like she'd just run a fucking marathon as opposed to shagging her boyfriends, but she knew herself well enough to know that there was absolutely no going back to sleep now that she was up.

It was her curse to bear—the ever-present awareness that followed a morning pee—and while most times she would just crawl into bed with a book and waste away the morning hours, she figured she could make use of a well supplied kitchen downstairs and make some breakfast.

She was far from a chef, but scrambling eggs and toasting some bread wasn't particularly complicated. And hey, if she was lucky, it might even earn her enough points to have Theo take a turn between her thighs before she had to return home this afternoon.

Hermione plucked Theo's discarded boxers and Draco's button down from the floor as she tiptoed out of the room. Doing her best not to wake either of them, she carefully shut the bedroom door behind her.

She dressed quietly in the hallway before moving down to the first floor with a new spring in her step. They were on the cusp of something here, and for the first time in a very long time, Hermione wasn't worried about the major unknowns in this relationship.

Was it unconventional? Sure.

Did she know how this would work out long term? Abso-fucking-lutely not.

But, was she willing to figure it out with them? Yes.

Hermione collected her curls and made quick work of securing them with an elastic band on the crown of her head. The house was quiet in the morning; the city was still asleep, and the ambient noise of traffic didn't drown out the soft chirp of birds. As she moved through the house, she couldn't help but think about how nice it felt—taking her time as opposed to sneaking out with dawn's light.

Dishes they'd washed the night before sat on the counter, long forgotten in the haste to make it upstairs and beside them, just on the edge of the counter, sat a small green plastic dinosaur.

That fucking dinoasaur.

A small laugh bubbled up her throat at the memory of that evening—specifically the little boy that seemed to set this random universal plan in motion. Crossing the kitchen, she picked up the plastic toy, finger tracing the length of the T-rex's tiny arms.

It was almost ironic how Eli was the springboard that launched this relationship into motion, considering the lengths Theo and she had taken to prevent him from discovering their adult time fun.

Two years of sneaking around.

Two years of late nights and early morning coffees.

Two years of making sure they were _careful_, and now?

Well, now they had future plans to tell the little boy about the three of them, about how Daddy loved Draco, and they both _fancied_ her, and _they _were all together. It still felt surreal. Like this was all a fucking weird dream and she was going to wake up at any moment, but dammit if that were the truth, she might considering staying sleeping beauty for forever. Especially if it came with orgasms like she had last night.

With the little prehistoric creature in hand, she moved to the stove and carefully set the toy on the corner to supervise her culinary tasks. Two sets of eyes were better than one, even if one set was plastic and unseeing.

She gathered the eggs and milk from the refrigerator and set the ingredients on the kitchen island before she began to search the cupboards for the perfect bowl. It was then, when she was bent over with her ass in the air, that the slap of footsteps approaching drew her attention.

"Well, _that _is certainly a sight a man could get used to."

Snatching the frying pan from the stack, Hermione turned around with narrowed eyes to find a bed raddled Theo standing at the kitchen's entrance. His brown hair was askew, standing at odd angles, and a fine layer of facial hair coated his cheeks. The tie on his navy cotton sleep pants was loose, leaving them low on his hips.

_Fuck. _

She knew he was handsome—he was always fucking handsome—but this version of him, so adorably sleepy and barely put together, was not a side she was often privy to.

"Need help?" He crossed the room, his large hand curling around her hip as he leaned in to press a soft kiss against the high of her cheek.

Were she a weaker woman, she would have dropped the pan and asked him to bend her over the counter. And, truthfully, it sounded like a _really_ fucking good idea, but the ache between her thighs was a pleasant reminder that she'd had her fill of sexual exploitations the night before.

That, and she would need to stretch before she even thought about mounting either of them again. Which begged to question—what type of stretches helped your pussy? Could she Google that? Or did she have to email her GYN? Because that would be fucking fun to explain to Dr. Chan.

_Hi Dr. Chan. I need help. I think I pulled a muscle in my vag while having sex with my two boyfriends. Any meds and calisthenics you can throw my way that might help me feel like I didn't just spend sixteen hours playing Oregon Trail on the back of a horse?_

"Earth to Granger?"

Her eyes snapped back to focus on him and crimson crept across her cheeks as the corners of her lips lifted in a sheepish grin. Right. He'd asked a question. Hadn't he? "Uh… yeah. Think you can handle toast?"

Theo snorted, lifting a hand to ruffle his already messy hair. "Can I handle toast?" The smirk that graced his lips was one she'd seen a thousand times, but even now it didn't fail to entice those pesky butterflies in her stomach. "Yeah. I think I can handle toast. Maybe some coffee would be ideal too, eh?"

"Oh shut up." Asshole. He was lucky he was fucking cute… and _kind of _charming. She swatted his hip playfully as she slipped past him toward the stove, laying the frying pan on the grate before she turned the flame on low to warm the pan.

They worked in silence, floating around one another in the kitchen in a way that felt like they'd done this a thousand times before. He only reached over her shoulder once to sprinkle a pinch of garlic into the eggs despite her insistence that she had it covered.

Theo had just handed her a perfectly prepared cup of coffee when a distant jingle of keys echoed across the first floor of his townhome. Her brow set, eyes drifting over to the door, cup frozen just in front of puckered lips. Who on earth could that be?

Draco was upstairs.

She was down here.

And Theo, well, he was standing right beside her wearing a look that belonged somewhere between pure horror and shock.

"Daddy!"

_Oh fuck!_

The front door swung open to reveal an overly enthusiastic little blond boy darting into the home. His forest green eyes sparkled, vibrant with energy Hermione could only find at the bottom of several Starbucks cups, mischief already brewing in his little mind as he darted into the kitchen. Immediately, his already big eyes flickered away from his father to her, looking as if they had grown to the size of softballs.

"Shit." Her expression was likely akin to a deer in headlights—if a deer had frizzy hair, day old makeup, and was wearing their boyfriend's clothing, of course.

"Minnie!" Veering off course from running to his father, Eli made a beeline around the kitchen island and connected with her lower half, his thin arms curling around her thighs as he buried his face in her stomach.

"H-Hey bubba." Forced enthusiasm cracked in her throat, doing little to hide the very real feelings of surprise and nervousness that had replaced her happiness from moments ago. She pushed back the boy's dirty blond hair, sliding her fingers affectionately through his soft locks.

"Did you come to play? Daddy and Mylo bought me a new Paw Patrol sea patroller! You can be Skye and I'll be Marshall!" His little hands were already winding into hers, sticky fingers coating her palms in whatever leftover breakfast substance clung to his skin.

Theo, no longer frozen, shot her a sympathetic grin, an apology already shining in his eyes as he maneuvered around the pair, his feet slapping the floor as he moved towards the front door in what she could only assume was some feeble attempt to delay the inevitable conversation.

It was like watching a train wreck. She knew she shouldn't look, but she was physically incapable of looking away.

Ella-Mae slipped through the front door, her blonde hair curled to perfection, framing her already painted face. It wasn't even ten in the morning and she looked more put together than Hermione did when afforded _hours_ to prepare. Tan espadrille wedges carried her effortlessly across the threshold, and a dark pair of raybans were perched on the bridge of her nose. "Sorry we're early. Elijah woke up early and would not stop chattering about that new—_Oh_. Hermione?"

Manicured fingers went to her sunglasses, tilting them down her nose as her brows rose. Her dark eyes narrowed and all Hermione could do was stare, opened mouthed, like some sort of slack-jawed neanderthal.

"Theo, I didn't know you had… _company._" The way she said that word—_company_—held so much accusation, so much judgement, but none of it seemed to be directed at her. Ella-Mae pushed her sunglasses up on the top of her head, cutting her eyes to Theo as her painted lips pursed. Hermione knew Ella-Mae had fire already poised on the tip of her tongue, ready to reprimand her ex for some preserved malefesance, ready to defend her friend's make believe honor.

As much as Hermione loved to hate the ex-beauty queen, for a singular moment, she appreciated the odd sort of friendship the pair had fallen into. E.M. had no idea what occurred, no idea that this was all _above board_, as they say, and was clearly ready to call Theo to the carpet.

"You didn't ask," Theo quickly interjected, hand on the back of his neck, fingers working the thick muscles as he glanced between Ella-Mae and Hermione. "But this isn't what… it looks like."

"Come on, Minnie! Let's go." Eli tugged at her hand, for a thirty-five pound boy, he was definitely stronger than he appeared, or at least stronger than Hermione.

She stumbled under the tug, feet shuffling across the floor as Eli dragged her to the stairs. Despite being led by an overly-enthusiastic four year old, she was unable to pull her eyes away from the two exes, craning to keep them in focus as they broke into hushed conversation.

What were they saying? What did E.M. think happened? Had this situation happened before? Did Theo make a habit of sleeping with women without disclosing his relationship status?

"Good morning beautiful."

God, she would never get used to that English drawl, and while under normal circumstances the flush of arousal it sent through her veins would have been welcome, right now it was very much not helpful.

Lifting her eyes up the stairs, she saw a robed Draco already descending, his hair no longer stuck at odd angles, but now smoothed back—though it was far from its usual state of perfection. He'd nicked the bathrobe that hung on the back of the master bedroom door, thick emerald cotton contrasting beautifully with his alabaster skin.

He looked well-rested and genuine happiness shimmered in those storm cloud eyes as he greeted her.

"Mylo! You're here, too!" Eli dropped her hand, racing up the staircase to Draco with even more enthusiasm—if that was even fucking possible. Amphetamines clearly had nothing on the eagerness of a four year old about to play Paw Patrol. "You can play Rubble. Minnie is going to be Skye and I'm—"

"Oh My _GOD!"_

An ear piercing squeal was followed by a loud thump, and Hermione turned, prepared to find her boyfriend maimed by the claws of a beauty queen. But instead saw the pair… hugging.

Her mind reeled, hardly able to keep up as she watched E.M. untangled herself from her shell-shocked ex before she began up the stairs, passing her briskly to pull Draco into an equally enthusiastic hug.

"This is—oh my god! This is amazing!" She squealed again, like she was a fucking pre-teen about to meet N*SYNC for the first time, practically vibrating as she peppered Draco's cheeks. "I am so happy for you two. No, no. You _three!"_

"Elijah, why don't you go get the toys ready in your room?" Draco managed through his assault, hands curling around E.M's shoulders to ease the blithering blonde away from him. "Miss Hermione and I will join you after we talk with your Mummy."

"But Myyyylo." Eli pouted, brows dropping in a deep frown as he looked up to Draco.

"Listen to Mylo." Theo's stern words drifted up from the base of the stairs, and in true dramatic flare, Eli let out an audible sigh as he trudged up the stairs, clearly not thrilled with the prospect of having to entertain himself while the adults spoke.

"So how long?" Ella-Mae pulled back, a thin arm winding around Draco's waist, a pearly white smile beaming at them in it's full 150-watt glory. It looked like she was up on stage, waving to the crowd as opposed to stuck on a staircase in fucking San Jose asking about how long her ex and his boyfriend had been fucking their friend.

Hermione shifted nervously on the balls of her feet, her eyes flickering between Draco and Theo, as if she suddenly had the gift of telepathy and they could get on the same page with whatever story they were going to tell the nosey beauty queen.

"A couple years."

"A month."

"Not long."

The three answers merged as one as they spoke simultaneously and Hermione winced. Fuck, why wasn't magic real? What she wouldn't give for a wand that she could wave and make this whole situation less awkward.

"It's… uh… It's fairly new." Hermione cleared her throat, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. "We hadn't brought it up because…" Her eyes shifted down the stairs to Theo, widening in a silent plea for assistance.

"Because we wanted to make sure it was… Well, going well before we informed everyone." Theo slowly climbed the stairs, slipping his arm around Hermione's waist in a quasi-possessive hold as he settled on the same step as her.

"So Harry and Ginny…" Ella-Mae's brows lifted, dark eyes shifting to Hermione. The implication that Hermione's nearest and dearest friends might be out of the loop about her _romantic_ life wasn't hard to read in her tone, anyone with two spare brain cells would have been able to register it.

Despite havingpleasant, albeit brief thoughts about the former beauty queen just moments earlier, Hermione was once again reminded why Ella-Mae bothered her so fucking much. She meddled—literally fucking _meddled_—and as innocent as she liked to appear, Hermione saw through that fake exterior of Southern charm like she was a window.

"They're aware." Hermione forced a smile, Theo's fingers flexing at her waist, and she gripped the bannister to prevent her hand from forming a fist.

"Oh, that's a relief."

_Bitch._

"Ella-Mae." Theo tsked beside her, the rumble of his deep baritone helping calm her rising hackles. "Do you think maybe we can have this conversation later?"

"A more opportune time would be appreciated. Preferably one where I am wearing pants." Draco gave a slow gesture towards his bare legs peeking beneath the robe. Ella let out a girlish giggle that forced Hermione to look away so the beauty queen didn't catch her rolling her eyes.

Of course Ella-Mae giggled. She was feminine and cute in all the things she did. She dabbed her mouth with napkins, not wiped. She ate popcorn one fucking kernal at a time as opposed to shoveling it in her mouth—which everyone knew was the only socially acceptable way of eating popcorn.

"It's nothing I haven't seen before, Drakey," Ella-Mae tease. She brought her fingertips to her mouth to suppress further giggles, her purple fingernails a sharp contrast against her painted lips.

Hermione could feel herself stiffen. For some stupid primal reason, a wave of posessivness washed over her, and the need to pummel E.M. felt closer to becoming reality than ever before.

"Alllright." Theo cleared his throat, patting his large hand gently against her hip, before he slipped his arm free of her waist to descend the stairs. "Let me walk you out, Ella. I've got some artwork from daycare for you by the door."

"Oh, spoil sport." Ella-Mae pouted, beginning down the stairs after her ex, though when she moved to pass Hermione, she reached out and laid a hand on Hermione's arm. "We'll get together soon? A girl's date—you can tell me all about how this came to be."

"Oh...Uh…" _No. absolutely not_. She'd rather go to the fucking denist. "Sure?"

"Perfect! I'll text you later." Ella-Mae leaned in, pressing a large kiss on her cheek that Hermione was sure left a pink print before she flounced down the stairs after Theo with an almost feline grace.

Hermione's lips pursed, eyes tracking E.M. until she disappeared around the corner. She slumped back against the bannister, the wooden railing digging into her lower back.

"A girls date?" Draco moved slowly, pausing on each step as he moved toward her, brows lifting.

"Shut up."

"Will she be your new best friend?"

"Don't."

"Will you braid each other's hair? Perhaps paint each other's toes?"

"Draco, I swear to God if you don't stop I… I…"

"You'll what?" He was one step above her, lips quirking in the smallest hint of a smile, daring her to press forward with whatever absurd threat she was going to hurl his way.

Her eyes narrow infinismally, body turning so she could face him head on as she stuck out her chin defiantly. "I'll never kiss you again!" Yeah. Right. Like she'd ever fucking hold true to that.

For his part, Draco didn't even flinch at the thinly veiled threat. In fact, he seemed amused. "Is that so?"

"Uh-huh." Her arms crossed over her chest, thin brow cocking.

He lifted a hand, fingertips gently traveling across her jaw until he trapped her chin between his index finger and thumb. His presence was magnetic, and Hermione found herself lost in the storm cloud eyes she had begun to crave.

She felt herself slipping, the firm defiance wavering as he took a slow step down to her level, his body crowding hers on the step. He leaned in until their lips were only centimeters apart. She probably had morning breath, she likely still looked like utter trash, but all those flaws seemed lightyears away.

"Liar."

* * *

**author's note:**

heeeey! sorry for the delayed update. real life is crazy. they good news is the delayed posting has allowed me to build chapter buffers, so yahoo! also, you might notice there is an end chapter count **/gasp**. I have this entire story plotted from start to finish, and ya'll. I am so excited to finish this up for you.

thank you for all your kudos, comments, likes, shares, etc.. they mean the world to me.

come find me on facebook!

major thanks to dreamsofdramione. beta extraordinaire, and lumoslyra , alpha queen. these witches catch my endless errors and help my insentient rambling.

until next time. xx


	17. Chapter 17

"Are you even listening to me?" Hermione snatched one of the numerous throw pillows that decorated Harry and Ginny's king-size bed and lobbed it at her friend who laid across the foot of the bed.

"Hey!" Ginny flailed, nearly dropping her iPhone on her face as she recoiled from the soft blow.

"Jesus Christ, Gin! You invite me over, threaten bodily harm unless I tell you every fucking detail about my night, then ignore me in favor of… what? Candy Crush?" Hermione tossed her hand in the air, lips pursing as she watched the redhead climb across the bed to claim the pillow next to her.

As annoyed as she was that Ginny wasn't _really_ listening, she was grateful that she had someone she could talk to about her relationship status who wouldn't pass judgement—or rather, _too_ much judgement.

"Uh… wrong." Ginny shouldered her before turning her phone's screen in Hermione's direction. "I was Googling your boyfriend, actually." And there he was, a charming image of her too-perfect boyfriend on a Wikipedia page wearing a British Army dress uniform.

**Prince Draco, Duke of Gloucester.**

**Born:** June 5th

**Full Name: **Draco Lucius Malfoy

**Height: **6"1

**Spouse: **None

**House:** Windsor

**Parents: **Narcissa Alice Euphenia Louise, Duchess of Cambridge. Master Lucius Malfoy.

Twelfth in line to the British Throne. He went to school at Eton College—whereever the fuck that was, and finished his education at Oxford after a short stint with the military.

It felt so odd, knowing she could literally find out everything about her boyfriend's history with one search, but even now, as her eyes ran over the details she'd read before, it felt like she was prying—learning about his past without giving him the opportunity to tell her himself.

"Uh… I wish you wouldn't do that." Hermione sighed, leaning back on the fluffy pillows as she snatched the remote from the bed, thumb jamming the guide button. At the very least, she could browse through the Potter's DVR and find some reality TV to catch up on during her visit.

"Do what?"

"Google him."

Ginny snorted, burrowing back into the mountain of pillows behind her, and propping her phone against her swollen stomach, making no move to stop her snooping. "This is the twentieth century—"

"Twenty-first."

"Whatever, smart-ass." Ginny cut her eyes over at Hermione before she looked back down. "_Anyways_, it's twenty-twenty—if you aren't Googling your potential partners, you're a bloody fool. Frankly, I'm a little disappointed you don't have this thing memorized by now."

Ginny wasn't wrong. Under normal circumstances Hermione would have used her online sleuthing skills and some background check services she had access to thanks to PaidPal. She may or may not have used said skills (and services) to look into Theo's background shortly after their one-night stands turned into thrice-weekly fucks.

But with Draco it felt wrong.

He grew up in the public eye. Yes, he was a _lesser royal_ but she knew she could find an arsenal of information about his past and… well… it almost felt like some sort of power imbalance in their relationship. She could look up nearly whatever she wanted to about him and he would only be privy to an old MySpace account with a Top 9 she never even talked to anymore—she'd checked, and a new old photos with some rather question haircuts.

Truthfully, she _wanted_ to look.

She wanted to spend hours online looking into Draco's past, learning about his childhood, his parents, and what it all meant for the future of their relationship. She was far from a fucking saint, but something held her back.

Ethics? No.

Morals? _Ha_—hardly.

"Whatever I want to know I'll just ask him or Theo. It isn't exactly like we're keeping secrets from one another." Hermione lifted her shoulders, indifference settling in to that familiar spot in her chest. She toggled back and forth between Hoarders and 90 Day Fiance, debating what type of depravity she wanted to subject herself to while they waited for Harry and Teddy to return with dinner.

"Anymore," Ginny murmured, dark eyes not lifting from her phone as she spoke around the thumbnail perched between her teeth. "But they _did _keep things from you before."

"Not really. I mean Theo was in a relationship… and well, it technically never came up with Draco." Hermione settled on Hoarders. She glanced over at her very pregnant friend with pursed lips. "Don't pass judgement Mrs. _I-don't-tell-my-husband-about-my-online-poker-addiction_."

Ginny's eyes slowly found hers, her face void of any emotion, and she hastily turned off the screen of her phone with a quick push of a side button. "We said we'd never discuss that."

"And we won't. I was just pointing out that even _you_, the amazing redhead wonder, are not free from sin." A small wave of victory bubbled up in her chest as she watched her opinionated friend simmer beside her. It hardly ever happened, her getting the one up on Ginny, and she had to savor these moments for as long as possible, because lord only knew when _this_ would happen again.

"Speaking of _sin_, how was your date?" Ginny, obviously eager to change the subject, tossed her phone on the nightstand, apparently giving up her Draco fact finding mission—at least for the time being. Hermione held little doubt that once she stepped foot outside their home Ginny would be back on her phone combing through the royal family's Wikipedia page.

Hermione gulped, fingers lacing together as casually as she could manage across her stomach.

How was her date? Oh god.

_Amazing. Mind blowing. Blissful. _

"It was alright." She didn't dare let her gaze drift from the TV, watching as the first compulsive Hoarder was introduced. "Ya know, same old same old."

Play it cool. If she was lucky, Ginny wouldn't press and she wouldn't have to confess her dirty little secret of fucking both Theo and Draco at the same time. Not that she was ashamed—she _was_ dating them both so it was natural to assume it would happen eventually.

It was just that…

Well, eventually came much quicker than anticipated.

Ginny shifted and Hermione could _feel _her friend looking at her. "Who was it with this time?"

"Both of them."

"_Oh?_"

_Fuck. _

She heard the telltale uptick in Ginny's voice, and out of her periphery saw her friend's head turn like a goddamn owl to look at her, a wide grin split across her face. "How was that?"

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

"Pleasant. We ate pizza and watched some TV, nothing special. Say, didn't you have a prenatal appointment on Friday?"

Avoid. Distract. Misdirect. These were all solid plans—ones that any sane person would fall victim to, but Ginny Potter? Ginny was like a fucking CIA operative. She could sniff out lies and deceit like it was her goddamn job, and although years of friendship made Hermione a tad bit better at pulling the wool over her eyes, she was absolutely no match for the redhead.

Ginny leaned forward, nimble even when she was approximately the size of an elephant seal, and snatched the remote from the bed, jamming the pause button to freeze the TV on a particularly horrific shot of a filthy living room. If Hermione looked closely, she might be able to make out a petrified animal. Right now she thought she would like to trade places with that poor dead creature.

Sighing, Hermione rolled her head on the pillow to look at her friend, brows raised. "_What?"_

"I already told you about it. Baby's fine, now stop trying to give me half truths and spill the fucking beans about your date, Hermione Jean!"

"_Ugh_… I just told you! It was _fine_." Her hands laced behind her neck, fingers pressing into the taut muscles. "I picked up some dough, marinara, cheese, and toppings from Trader Joes. We made pizza and drank some wine."

"Okay… and?"

"We watched some television."

"_And?"_

"And… I _may_ have spent the night."

"You bitch!" It was Ginny's turn to pummel her with a pillow, whacking her repeatedly with the sham while Hermione helplessly protected her face with her arms. "I _knew_ it! You can't bloody well _not _tell me about your sleepover!"

"Okay! Okay!" Hermione laughed, bare feet sliding across the comforter as she pulled her knees to her chest, laughter dancing off her tongue. "Stop!"

"I have literally been waiting _ages_ for this, and you were not going to tell me?!" Ginny tucked the assault pillow over her bump. "Does Harry know!? If you told Harry before you told—"

"No! Absolutely not." Hermione straightened up, fingers tucking wayward curls behind her ears as she firmly shook her head. "And I would prefer he _not_ know."

Harry was a smart man—most of the time. She was sure he assumed this would eventually happen but… it was kind of like hearing about your sibling fucking someone. Why on earth would she want to subject him to that? As ecstatic as she was about Ginny's pregnancy announcement eight short months ago, when the couple made jokes about conception, Hermione had wanted to stuff cotton in her ears and find the nearest casket to claim as her own.

"Well, no shite."

"Thank you."

A lingering silence fell between them. Ginny looked at her, expectant, nails scratching across the zipper, building the tension as Hermione waffled on what she would and would not divulge.

How in detail did she want to go? She didn't mind telling Ginny per se, but the boys might want her to keep _some_ stuff back, right? Surely they didn't want her to tell her friend exactly how fucking hot it was to watch Theo suck off Draco… or how she begged to watch them fuck, or how utterly amazing it was to have—

"Jesus fucking Christ, tell me _something!"_

A breathy laugh bubbled up her throat, and Hermione reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. Perhaps she could give some _small_ details. "Uh… Well, Theo's bed can adequately fit all of us, so I might need to invest in a king-size mattress soon."

Ginny howled, actually fucking _howled_ with laugher like the depraved banshee she was, thin legs kicking excitedly against the mattress, causing the remote to bounce wildly between them. "Ooooh! Yes! Tell me more. How does it work? Did they like… like ravish you at the same time? Oh god, what positions did you try? Harry and I tried using a toy while he—"

Danger. Danger. Danger.

"_LALALA!_" Hermione sat upright, fingers jamming in her ears as she tried to rid herself of the mental image of her two best friends doing something she absolutely _never_ wanted to see.

She watched Ginny's mouth move but couldn't quite make out her muffled words. Hermione waited until the coast was clear, aka Ginny shutting her fucking mouth, before she lowered her hands.

"Okay, here's the deal. I will feed the beast that is your curiosity—"

"She's hungry so you better have something juicy to share."

"— but, please, for the love of god, never, under any circumstances, finish that story in my presence."

"Deal."

Shifting on the bed, Hermione turned to face her lounging friend, carefully crossing her legs in front of her like it was circle time at the library as opposed to two thirty-something year olds discussing kinky sex. "They were gentlemen."

Ginny snorted, draping her arms over her bump. "Booooring."

"Let me finish!" Hermione sighed, shaking her head. "It wasn't like I showed up and we all got naked. We ate dinner, spent time together. It was really nice. I haven't spent much time around them together, so it was… I don't know? Cute to see their dynamic." She lifted her shoulders, fingers picking at the bottom of her tapered yoga pants.

"But you did shag them, right?"

"Yes, Ginny. I _shagged_ them."

"Thatta girl."

Even making an effort to avoid the more intimate details of her evening, Hermione spent the better part of the next half hour recounting her first group date with her men and their subsequent bedroom fun.

She had to admit, being able to talk candidly about her relationship with both Theo and Draco was nice. She'd never doubted the Potter's acceptance to all walks of life, but seeing it put into action and knowing they held no judgement was refreshing. It only seemed to reinforce she'd made the proper decision in adopting them as her pseudo family.

"So in the morning did you… you know? Again?" Ginny wagged her brows as her right hand rubbed circles over the side of her stomach, trying to calm the little boy inside that had been rolling restlessly in her stomach for the last half of her story.

"I wouldn't have shot it down but… sadly, no." Hermione shifted to lie on her stomach, arms curled around a pillow, holding it under her chin as she looked up at her lounging friend. "E.M. decided to come over unannounced and drop Eli off early."

"Ella-Mae?"

"Do you know another E.M.?"

"Holy shit." Ginny's hand froze and her eyes widened. "So like… she knows?"

"Mhmm." Hermione nodded, lips pursing to the corners of her mouth.

"Well, since you're still alive, I take it she didn't go absolutely mad?"

God. If only. "Worse," Hermione mumbled, eyes dropping to the floral bedding with a dramatic sigh. "She made me promise to have a girl's night with her."

"A girl's night with who?" Harry's voice cut across the room as he nudged the door open with his foot, a large styrofoam cup in each hand and a white paper bag tucked under his arm.

"Ella-Mae found out about the three of them." Ginny explained as she struggled to sit up; her center of gravity was more and more off-kilter the closer she got to her due date.

His thick brows rose, green eyes flickering between Hermione and his wife with an amused expression. "Wow. Is she trying to make you hate her or something?"

"Evidently." Hermione hopped off the bed, moving quickly to take the drinks from Harry so he could help Ginny to a more comfortable position.

"Oh come on you two. Ella-Mae isn't _that_ bad."

Harry's hands settled at his wife's waist, gingerly helping her until she could lean against their cushioned headboard. "Really Ginn?" Harry cocked a brow at his wife skeptically. "She puts jumpers on her bloody cat."

"She eats kale chips _because she likes the taste._" Hermione shuddered, trying to suppress her gag reflex at the mere thought of kale. Sure, it was healthy, and if it was in a salad, smothered in some kind of dressing, it was palatable. But chips? No. No, she was clearly unwell.

"Poor life choices aside, she's really sweet." Under normal circumstances Ginny would probably concede about Ella-Mae being a bit much, but pregnancy was clearly turning her brain to mush. Fucking horomones. Reaching out, Ginny took her pineapple slush from Hermione. "I don't think you two spending time together is such a terrible idea, truthfully."

"Oh?" Hermione tilted her head to the side, lips wrapped around her red straw. "And why is that, oh wise one?"

"Because if you're serious about your relationship with Theo and Draco… Well, she'd be in your life for forever, wouldn't she?"

"Ah… she does have a point, 'Mione." Harry flopped across the bottom of the bed, pulling his wife's legs across his middle so he could rub her swollen ankles. "How serious do you think this is?"

Alarm bells signaled. Like those tornado warnings they use in the midwest, loud, screeching sirens cut straight to her middle and made her stomach clench.

How serious _was_ it?

Hermione didn't really know how she could answer that—at least not yet. Sure, she wanted to be with them. She knew that. But there were a lot of logistical complications to consider.

Draco technically lived in England and was fucking _royalty_.

And while Theo's life was in the U.S. for now, he was on a visa and she could reasonably assume it had an expiration date.

Oh, and the added complication of both of their xenophobic families. While the Nott family probably wouldn't care about Theo dating an American, they would absolutely take issue with him also dating a man, regardless of Draco's status.

"Uhh… I plead the fifth." Hermione gulped down her cherry limeade, averting her gaze to the ceiling as she flopped back on the bed, laying perpendicular between her friends.

Harry laughed, his familiar chuckle filling the room, and although he would never dare to say it, Hermione knew his laughter was borderline mockery. He knew she hadn't put much thought to it. It was her style, after all, go with the flow, let things fall where they may.

Sure, she liked plans for projects at work, but her personal life? Well, that was always a healthy balance of chaos and chance.

Thankfully, before either of her friends could press, the familiar chime of a text alert radiated from her hip. Fishing her phone from the elastic pocket of her yoga pants, she held it aloft so the facial recognition could assess her without her double chin.

Navigating away from Instagram where she'd spent the better part of thirty minutes looking at pictures of Doug the Pug, she opened her iMessages to find a missive from Theo.

"Who is it?" The crinkle of Ginny opening the paper sack from Sonic was followed by a small gasp in surprise. "You got mozzarella sticks _and _onion rings? You're amazing."

Harry beamed. "I know."

_Plans for next weekend? x_

"Theo." Hermione tucked her drink between thighs to hold it steady so she could use both thumbs to type a reply.

**Well considering it's six days away… **

**no.**

"His ears must be burning," Ginny mused, already halfway through one of the mozzarella sticks, opting to forgo the marinara that should have accompanied them.

_Think you could take Wed & Thurs off? x_

**I'd have to check my calendar. Whats up?**

_Finally taking Draco and Eli to Santa Cruz. Was hoping you could come with. x_

_Nice house near the beach, outdoor patio, the works. x_

Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard, teeth gnawing at her bottom lip. He was inviting her on their trip? While not unusual, that familiar flash of self-doubt tickled her consciousness.

It was fast. Yes, she'd already fucked them. Yes, they'd gone on several dates, but this was all so new. And an overnight trip? For several _days?_ That was a big step, even if Santa Cruz was only a couple hours away, it was still technically a vacation.

_I can promise funnel cake, but only if we can see you in a bikini. ::emoji smile:: x_

She groaned, pressing the top of her phone against her chin as she closed her eyes. Fuck him and his persuasive ways.

"What is it?" Harry lifted his head from the mattress, heavy brows furrowing as he looked over to her.

"He's invited me to Santa Cruz." Hermione pulled the cup from between her thighs and maneuvered to set it on the bedside table. "Promises of funnel cake and a good time."

"And this is a problem because?" Ginny licked her index and thumb. "Sounds pretty good to me. Word to the wise, they also have these cinnamon roasted almonds on the pier that are bloody brilliant."

"I mean it's not a problem, it's just…" Hermione lifted her shoulders, glancing between her friends. "Is this too fast? We've only been dating for a couple weeks."

"Time frame aside, does it feel right?" Harry gently patted his wife's legs before he slipped out from under them so he could sit up and look Hermione in the eyes. "The idea of going with them, I mean."

"It doesn't sound terrible?" God, she was hopeless. "I know it would be fun. I love Santa Cruz and it's been a long time since I've been to the Boardwalk, but shouldn't you wait before you do out of town stuff? Isn't there some social code you're supposed to follow?"

"If it feels right, then fuck it. I asked Ginny to move in with me after dating for two months, and proposed after six months." Bless Harry. For some inexplicable reason, he always had the right thing to say, even if it meant saying the hard stuff at times. He was always a shoulder to lean on, providing words of wisdom, and now, when she needed his advice most, he was able to spout off what she'd often dubbed some Potter-Wisdom that helped calm that insatiable self-depreciation that plagued her mind. "When you know… you know. Screw what society says. If you want to go, I say go. If you'd rather stay home, use me or Gin as an excuse. But, for what it's worth, I think you'd probably have fun if you went."

Hermione tapped her finger on her bottom lip, rereading Theo's messages again, weighing out the proverbial pros and cons of accepting his offer. She _would_ have fun if she went. More time with Draco and Theo together was probably ideal, and she never had a problem spending time with Eli.

But what if she went and they saw something they didn't like? Like how she wore socks instead of house slippers. Or how she left water cups all over the house, scattered in various spots, long forgotten. Would it ruin everything so early on, before they'd all been given the proper amount of time to let their feelings grow?

_Don't overthink this, Granger. It's just Santa Cruz. x_

Fuck it.

What's the worst that could happen?

**I can probably make it work.**

_Brilliant. I'll let D and Eli know. They'll be chuffed. x_

"Chuffed—good or bad?" Hermione peaked over her phone to look at her two translators. She'd gotten most of the slang down, but she was far from fluent in British-isms. "Good, right?"

"Very good." Harry laughed.

**Side note, I'm sorry to disappoint, but I don't own a bikini. **

**Tankinis are preferred, have you seen my figure?**

_I have. Several times, in fact, and I can assure you, you'd look bloody amazing in anything. x_

A smile tugged at her lips, and that strange warmth began to radiate out from the center of her chest.

_Or nothing. x_

_If you want to send me nudes, I'd be able to give you a proper assessment. ::winking emoji:: x_

* * *

**Author's Note:**

honestly, i have no idea what to put here, other than thank you all for the amazing reviews, comments, kudos & follows. you're all treasures and i adore you.

many thanks to lumoslyra for alphaing this fucking nonsense. & I absolutely cannot leave out dreamsofdramione, beta queen. these ladies are making my words make sense.

come find me on facebook!

also, if you have not already, and would like to find more multi & triad deliciousness, find my group Restricted Section: Multi + Triads Only (18+)

until next time. xx


	18. Chapter 18

Warning: this chapter is NSFW (trigger: breath-play & exhibitionism)

* * *

Hermione had barely set foot on the beach when she remembered why she wasn't the biggest fan.

Sand.

God she _hated_ sand.

Normally she was not into Sci-Fi, but in that moment, she felt a deep connection to the young Anakin Skywalker. It was coarse, irritating, and it got fucking _everywhere, _but despite hating sand, she absolutely loved Eli.

Which is why, when the little boy begged them to visit the beach within hours of their arrival, she happily obliged.

Prepared to scrape those fine little grains from her hair and every crevice of her body later, Hermione slipped into her burgundy bathing suit, put on her largest sunnies, and planned to lay out with her newest book for as long as possible.

Of course, Eli had other plans.

He _always_ had other plans, he was very much like his father in that way. Once she'd properly applied sunscreen to Draco and Theo, her boyfriends devised a divide and conquer plan in their own application of the balm to her and the youngest member of their group.

Theo slathered lotion on his son while Draco took his time coating every one of Hermione's ample curves in sunscreen. It had taken the little boy approximately twenty seconds after she'd laid out her towel to request that she join him and wade in the waves.

She tried to decline and persuade him that his father or Draco would be far better suited for that type of play. Unfortunately, he carried enough of his mother's strong will to not give in until Hermione was clutching his hand in thigh-deep, icy cold salt water.

"Eli, are you—_Oh shit!"_ A large wave rolled in and she let out a small squeak in protest. The foamy white caps of the slow tide brushed up her thighs until the water soaked her bottoms.

"Potty word!" Eli giggled, his hand tightly clutching hers as the tide jostled his little body to and fro.

"Yeah? Well, you're about to hear plenty more if we go any further." Hermione laughed, the apples of her cheeks pushing her sunglasses up her face as her smile grew. If he were anyone else, she would have told him absolutely not. She wouldn't have dared step a toe in the icy cold hell that was the Santa Cruz waters, but it was Eli, and lord help her, she absolutely loved it when that kid smiled.

Mercifully, he wanted to get out shortly after. He tugged her up the beach and away from the rolling tide leaving only his little footprints indented in the wet sand.

"Watch this, Minnie."

The warning was not nearly enough time for her to prepare.

In one fluid motion, the little boy jumped up, timing the slap of his feet in the shallow waters perfectly so large droplets splattered Hermione.

"Motherfucker!" Her hand dropped from his and she wiped at her cheeks where she could feel the grit of sand slice over her skin with even the gentlest brush. "Oh, you little—"

Eli was off before she could finish, laughter bubbling up his throat, filling the ocean air as he darted down the beach in the direction of his father and Draco, little feet splashing in the receiving tide.

She'd never considered herself a runner.

In her humble opinion, running was only acceptable in very few situations, which included: fear of bodily harm, dinosaurs, zombies, alien invasion, and revenge. And right now, the latter was clearly in order.

She took off after the little boy, and as if she'd fallen under the spell of his laughter, soon her own followed. She kicked water in his direction, painting his back with the icy cold spray, before closing the distance between them to scoop him up in her arms. Eli squealed, little legs kicking wildly as she spun them around in a circle, letting the momentum of his weight assist in their spin.

"Miiiinnie!" His cries carried with the ocean wind, mixed with the boisterous laughter, they created what Hermione could only assume was the best possible noise in the world.

"Time for lunch!" Theo's deep baritone cut through their laughter, and Hermione slowed their spin, careful to make sure Eli's toes touched the sand before she squinted down the beach. Draco and Theo were still in the space they had claimed earlier, lounging under a large purple beach umbrella they'd found at the Airbnb.

"Aw man!" Eli's lips pulled down, brow setting as he looked at his father, disappointment dimming his forest green eyes, and Hermione let her fingers slip through his soft, sandy blond hair, enjoying the silken feel of it sliding between her fingers. "But I'm not even hungry yet."

"Well, I am." Hermione made a show of patting her middle, earning a small slip of laughter before she held out her hand and wiggled her fingers at him. "Come on. We'll eat quickly and go back to playing before you know it. Maybe we can convince Draco to get into the water with us this time."

"Mylo _never_ goes in the water." His fingers laced with hers, and Hermione let him lead her down the beach, sand sticking to the bottoms of her feet as they moved away from the ocean slicked ground.

"I bet I can convince him."

"Oh yeah? How?"

There was almost an air of challenge in his voice, as if he didn't believe she could. And frankly, if Draco abhorred the water just as much as she did, it might be tricky, but she _did _have a trump card that typically played in her favor.

"I'll ask kindly, use my nice words… and probably give him a kiss." Amongst other promises she would be more than willing to keep—the kinds of promises little ears absolutely did not need to overhear.

"Yuck!" Eli wrinkled his nose and scrunched up his little face. "That's gross, Minnie."

Hermione laughed, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. One day he wouldn't find the prospect of kissing so revolting, though she was hoping that day was many, _many_ years away. Lord only knew Teddy's interest had just begun to blossom, and even then, he still held enough innocence to make it charming and adorable.

"What's so funny you two?" Theo's thick brow peaked over the top of his dark Ray Bans. If it were possible, he might have looked more handsome than she'd ever seen before. His light blue button down hung open, revealing the thick muscles that lay underneath, and his sunkissed glow paired with those cream trunks? Well, it should probably be illegal to look that good—especially at a public beach.

And lest she forget Draco. Where Theo held thick muscles, Draco was lean and lithe. His abs were well defined, and though he was far too pale to be out in the direct sun for any length of time, he looked like he belonged lounging on the sand. A pair of aviators framed his face nicely, playing homage to that classic James Bond jawline he possessed. His green trunks were cut mid thigh, exposing his thick thigh muscles to the world.

She knew people were watching them, staring at the handsome pair of men, the adorable little kid, and the frump of a woman they'd brought along. She couldn't help but wonder if some thought she was their nanny or au pair. Clearly that would make more sense than the truth.

"Nothing." Her reply was singsong, teasing Theo as she maneuvered over to sit on the empty towel between him and Draco. "Just secrets between friends."

"Minnie said she was going to kiss Mylo." Eli crawled onto his Paw Patrol towel, trekking sand across the image of the police dog (Charles? Chuck? Whatever!) without a care, before flopping prone across it.

"Oh, is that so?" Draco, who had been reading a paperback he'd snagged from the Airbnb, glanced up, suddenly interested in life outside of the novel. Reaching up, he slid his sunnies down the bridge of his nose, his silver eyes peeking over the dark lenses.

"Well I don't see a problem with that," Theo mused as he set a paper plate in front of his son. Half a sandwich and a small handful of carrot sticks ready for Eli to devour. "That is, as long as she gives me some kisses, too."

"Nooo. Just _Mylo_ gets kisses. It's so he'll go play in the ocean with us." Eli picked up a carrot, crunching noisily as he looked up at his father. "You can't come play. You're supposed to watch our stuff."

Theo's hand went to his hair, thick fingers ruffling the untidy brown locks. "I think our things will be fine—"

"No, no, no, Theodore," Draco tisked as he dog eared his page and closed the paperback with a snap. Shaking the book at their boyfriend, his lips lifted in that sharp smirk that made her heart skip a beat. "Elijah made his wishes perfectly clear. Who are we to argue with such fine logic?"

Hermione snorted, pressing her fingers against her lips. She watched as Theo's face morphed with mock hurt, while Draco's chest swelled with something akin to pride. These two—as much as they loved one another, and cared about making the dynamic of this triad work, well… They were very much still men, and evidently determined to make some sort of competition out of something as trivial as kisses.

"You know, I just had a thought. I might, in fact, have enough kisses to go around." Hermione lifted her shoulders before reclining back on her beach towel, elbows holding her torso up as she stretched her legs out to catch the rays of afternoon sun.

Three months ago, if someone had told her she'd find herself lounging on the Santa Cruz Boardwalk beach, nestled between Theodore Nott, his royal boyfriend, and Eli, discussing the merits of how she might be able to provide both of the handsome men kisses, she wouldn't have laughed—she would have claimed insanity.

But now? When she felt Theo's hand curl around her thigh, his fingertips brushing the bits of sand from her skin as he leaned down to claim a tender kiss… Well, now she still thought it was a bit crazy, but it was starting to feel a little bit like their new normal.

* * *

Okay.

Ginny was right.

Not that she'd ever tell her—_God no._

The cinnamon almonds were amazing. She'd found the vendor tucked at the far end of the Boardwalk, and nearly had a heart attack when she'd first looked at the price (nearly ten dollars for a small cone of fucking almonds!?). But after her first bite, she now understood.

They were basically crack. One bite and suddenly all she wanted was that cinnamon-sugar crunch.

She'd hastily gone back and bought another cone—_for Ginny_, she'd told herself at the time—but now that she'd polished off the first sleeve, with the help of her favorite four-year-old, she was wondering how upset Ginny might be if she didn't come home bearing any gifts. Every step they took carried them farther and farther from the sugar goodness, and she was wondering exactly how judgemental the cashier might be if she showed up again when Eli stopped in the middle of the Boardwalk.

"I want Minnie to go with me!" Eli stood in front of the sun-faded ride, one hand on his hip and the other shadowing his brow. His cheeks were rosy, and the caps of his shoulders were already bronzed from the day in the sun.

Hermione's eyes shifted between Eli and the ride, her brow furrowing with each flick as she watched the oversized teacups spin round and round about the track. "Ha… That's going to be a hard pass from me, Bubba." Hermione laughed nervously. "I don't do rides."

"Yes you do." Eli spoke with such confidence that for a singular moment, Hermione almost believed him—_almost._

"Negative, little man. I do not."

"You went on the carousel." She glanced back to Theo, the mirrored reflection in his Ray Bans hiding the beautiful green she'd come to pine for. His arm was slung casually around Draco's shoulders, forcing their boyfriend into a bit of PDA that, based on the way he kept fidgeting, he was having difficulty accepting. In the other hand, he was finishing off a vanilla cone for his son who'd _insisted_ he was old enough for an adult sized cone. Unsurprisingly, he wasn't, but Theo appeared more than happy to assist in polishing it off.

"What about that log ride?" Draco quirked a brow over the top of his sunnies. "You didn't seem to mind that too much."

Hermione spun around to face the pair, her hand instinctively dropping to Eli's shoulder to make sure he didn't dart off, as his track record with staying put in large crowds wasn't exactly stellar. "Okay, first off. Carousel's don't _really_ count as rides. You sit on a plastic horse and go around in a circle. And you all _forced_ me on the log ride, which I hated. My shorts are still soggy, my hair is"—she gestured to the mess of salt and cholorine soaked curls in a knot on the top of her head—"a fucking mess, but I did it because you all asked. I adore you all, especially you, Eli, but there is no fucking way I'm getting on that death trap."

No. Absolutely not. Spinning rides were already iffy as an adult, but spinning tea cups of doom? No fucking way. As much as she liked those cinnamon almonds, she absolutely did not want them to come back up.

Even when Eli looked up at her, with those oversized forest green eyes and quivering bottom lip, she refused to waiver. She wasn't going to spend the rest of the evening nursing a queasy stomach.

"Don't worry, Elijah. I'll take you," Draco offered, and though he meant for it to be a selfless act, Hermione couldn't help but wonder if he was just using it as an excuse to evade his boyfriend's hold.

Slipping free from Theo's arm, Draco took Eli's hand, shooting them a quick glance over his shoulder before the overly enthusiastic four-year-old dragged him to the end of the line.

"Well, while they're off doing that, want to help me find the washroom?"

Hermione's gaze left the retreating blond pair as they disappeared into the crowd and she turned her attention to Theo. Despite his eagerness to finish the cone, it appeared as if not all of the confection had made the journey to his stomach. His fingers glistened, hints of melted vanilla soft-serve clinging to his skin.

Like son like father, evidently. With a small laugh, Hermione nodded. "Sure, I think I saw a sign a few stalls back." Her hand curled around his bicep, fingers sinking into the thick muscle as she began to guide him through the crowd.

The Boardwalk was busy, which was not a shock. Even in fall, Santa Cruz rarely saw bad weather, and today was no exception. The light ocean breeze cut through the heat of the sun, making what would have been a blistering day in any other part of the state temperate and pleasant. It was a satisfying reminder of why she'd relocated from Los Angeles to this part of California.

Aside from the obvious 'get away from where my parents died,' the climate was so different. Winters were cool, but not brisk, and summers were warm without exaggerated heat. Living in San Jose also afforded her the opportunity to be in a cultural hub that felt… alive, like the city was a living, breathing entity, and she was just a parasite that happened to find the Bay Area as her host.

While Los Angeles had held so many memories—many she'd cherish forever, and others she wished she could forget—it was her past. This region was her future.

They moved through the crush of people, her shoulder occasionally brushing against a stranger with a mumbled apology. They serpentined their way down the Boardwalk until the faded blue sign appeared, hanging loosely off the side of the building. "There it is."

"Good. I was starting to doubt your abilities."

"My bathroom homing pigeon abilities?" Hermione cocked her brow as she shot him a playful glance. "Never doubt them. Always spot on. A girl with a weak bladder _always_ knows."

His laughter made her smile widen, and she could feel the high of her cheeks push her sunnies up her face as they made their way toward the restrooms. Turning down the small alley between shoddily painted buildings, Hermione fished her iPhone from her pocket, firing off a quick text to let Draco know where they'd run off to just in case he and Eli made it through the ride in record time.

Based on the length of the line, that was doubtful, but still, it was the right thing to do.

Falling in line, Theo draped his arm over her shoulders, careful to keep his sticky fingers off her skin as they fell into a comfortable silence. This was probably the best part of being with Theo—don't get her wrong, the sex was _mindblowing_ but this? This casual intimacy they shared?

It was blissful.

They didn't need to fill the silence with meaningless words or idle chit chat. They were content to simply _be _with one another and enjoy each other's mere proximity. Leaning against him, she let her head fall on his shoulder as she navigated away from her texts to her camera.

"Hey." She lifted her phone up, thumb tapping the little camera switch icon so her and Theo's image appeared on the screen. "Smile."

Theo looked down, using his non-sticky hand to pull his glasses down his nose. Those beautiful eyes peered over the top of his Ray Bans to assess his image on the screen before he pushed them back into place and ran his fingers through his locks quickly. "Another selfie?" Despite his teasing, he leaned in, enveloping her body in a possessive embrace, and flashing that award-winning smile she'd come to crave.

"Yes. Got to document my time with you two." She lifted her chin just slightly, trying to elongate her neck as much as possible as she pressed the shutter button in rapid succession, hoping that at least one shot was social media worthy. "One day I might have to provide proof that you both wanted me."

"I'll always want you, Granger." Theo chuckled and pressed his lips against her temple before kissing along her hairline until his mouth was just beside her ear. "Especially now… after seeing you in that bathing suit."

Her eyes fluttered shut, and suddenly all thoughts of browsing Instagram while Theo cleaned up came to a screeching halt. He nipped at her ear, grazing the outer shell until he could pull her ear lobe between his teeth with a gentle tug. Had they not been in public, she might have whimpered.

"T-Theo… we're—"

His arms gripped her waist, one large hand sliding across her middle, fingers splayed wide, as the other curled around her hip. She felt the press of his front against her back, the thick stiffness from what she could only fathom was a half-mast cock pressing against her lower back.

Public be damned, this was… This was _hot_.

It was hard to deny the way his desire made her feel. Sexy, confident, and… frankly, turned on. She pressed her thighs together, a warmth pooling low in her belly, making her already damp jean shorts that much more uncomfortable as she arched back into him.

Her right hand moved to cover his, fingers gliding through the valleys of his knuckles, and her other arm lifted to curl around his neck, holding him close as she hummed in approval.

Her feet moved under his guidance, ignoring the world around them as he began to nibble and lick down her neck, apparently unconcerned by the salty taste of her sweat-slicked skin.

The chatter of the people around them faded under the sound of her steadily increasing heartbeat, and all she could focus on was the feeling his mouth on her. It seemed impossible at times, how quickly he could take her from nothing to horny teenager status in seconds flat. Perhaps it was his god given gift: Hermione Granger's personal sex god. It was the only logical explanation.

Just as quickly as it all began, the warmth of his lips left her skin and the arms that held her so securely lifted off her body. Her eyes snapped open just as he side-stepped around her, curled his hand around hers and tugged her forward.

Her brow furrowed, feet stumbling to keep up as he maneuvered them out of the line. Instead of turning around and heading back the way they came, he seemed intent on continuing down the alley.

"Theo, What are you—"

The words died on her tongue as they passed the restroom and he beelined for a rusty door that read SUPPLIES. He didn't answer her, likely assuming she could understand what he had in mind, and while the little angel on her shoulder told her this was likely a really fucking bad idea, that little devil was already stripping out of its clothing, encouraging this naughty little escapade.

She watched anxiously while he reached for the handle, breath hitching in her throat. When it turned freely, she almost let out a sigh of relief, but opted to practically shove him in the supply room instead.

Hot on his heels, she moved into the stale smelling closet, her hand slipping from his so she could shut the door behind them with a snap. As soon as the latch clicked into place, they were shrouded in darkness, highlighted only by broken streams of light shining through cracks in the shoddily placed drywall.

Theo spun around, his entire frame nearly filling up the narrow space, and before her eyes could even adjust to the darkness around them, his lips were on hers.

Firm. Relentless. _Unforgiving. _

He kissed her with an unbridled hunger that made her skin prickle. He wasn't just kissing her, or _snogging_ her as Draco put it. No, he was devouring her like he was the big bad wolf, and she was that innocent little girl in a red hood. Unlike the fairy tale, she wanted to get caught. She _wanted_ him to eat her whole.

Her fingers were in his hair, and she could feel the salt caked in his locks as her nails raked across his scalp, their tongues tangling together. His hands were nearly as ruthless as his kiss, sliding across her hips, tugging, twisting at the denim belt loops until he'd pressed her back against the steel door.

There were more than a few reasons they really shouldn't do this—not here and certainly not now.

Aside from the obvious fact that they were in a dirty janitorial closet that had likely not been cleaned in years—possibly decades, there was the fact that their boyfriend was in line with his son, being a fucking parent while they threw caution to the wind and got their rocks off.

It wasn't fair to Draco. It wasn't—

All thoughts of stopping—of being an adult and putting an end to this inappropriately timed tryst—vanished when she felt the pop of the buttons on her shorts give way and the drag of the zipper being lowered.

She gasped when she felt his hand slip beneath the elastic of her thong before he curled his fingers over her cunt in a hold that felt borderline possessive when paired with his fiery kiss.

Her hands slid down from his hairline, working their way across the expanse of his chest, feeling every ripple of thick muscle that lay beneath, before she moved to hook her fingers in the side of her shorts and thong. She wiggled them over her hips and down her thighs until they pooled at her feet.

There was no sense in playing coy and pretending she didn't want this. No, their time was limited and if she wanted to get off, well, they needed to move quickly.

"Fuck Granger." His voice was rough and unsteady as he slipped his fingers through her folds to brush along her already sodden sex. His fingertips found her clit, smoothing her essence across the bundle, causing her hips to jerk forward, a growing need burning within her.

Her fingers trembled as she moved to his boardshorts, fumbling with that useless fucking tie until it finally loosened enough for her to shove them down to his thighs. His cock sprang free of its confines, thick and ready as it slapped against his lower abdomen.

Now that her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, she could make out just enough of him for her to remember how fucking handsome he was.

Men like Theo were the kind that had little blue check marks next to their name on Instagram. They had followers and women pining after them. They posed shirtless and bronzed on foreign beaches and had model-esque girlfriends who were skinny and beautiful.

Men like Theo were supposed to be unobtainable.

But here he was, standing before her, proof of his attraction to her so very evident, and even still, it was hard for her to wrap her mind around.

She wouldn't call it luck—no, she absolutely did not believe in that sort of thing—but there had to be something larger at work. Some sort of witchcraft, or fucking planetary alignment that was in play that not only made a man as handsome, selfless, and fucking perfect as Theo want to be with her, but his equally as handsome boyfriend as well.

Careful, so as not to trip and land ass over tea kettle on the sticky flooring, Hermione stepped out of her shorts, and Theo, bless him, took the lead.

His right hand gripped her thigh, pinning it to his hip as he widened his stance so his hips were seated against hers.

Her hand slipped between their bodies, wrapping around the base of his cock. She brushed him across her sex, coating his head in her essence, before knotching the head of his cock at her core. "H-Hurry."

Theo chuckled, that dark breathy laugh that both excited her and made her fucking terrified of what was to come. His hand on her thigh tightened its hold, fingers digging into her soft flesh as the other rose and curled around the base of her neck. His grip tightened against her throat, putting just enough pressure to let her know what he intended.

Her body hummed in anticipation, the steel door cold and unnerving against her backside. It felt like she'd been waiting forever, her body primed, ready for him to take exactly what he knew they both needed, but his movements were shallow. He thrust in just enough to stretch her around the head of his cock before he pulled back out, teasing her with the near feather-light pressure.

She arched her back, pushing her hips into his, trying to pull him farther in. Her blunt nails scraped against the sun kissed skin of his muscular shoulders as she tried to find leverage.

A small noise of frustration bubbled up her throat, something between a whine and whimper when he tilted his hips back again, seemingly wise to her goal. "Theo!"

He clucked his tongue at her, like he was scolding his four-year-old as opposed to having her nearly speared on his cock in some fucking janitorial closet, and her hackles immediately rose, the need to fight flaring to life. "Now, now Granger… you know what I'm waiting for."

Her eyes narrowed, the confusing fire of desire mixed with the rising need to spite him for no purpose other than wanting to test the dominant side of his sexual personality. She wasn't going to give in—not now, not today.

Her hips arched forward, causing the sharp bite of his hip bones to press against hers, and she bit her bottom lip, eyelids fluttering for a second when he slipped in just a tad deeper than before.

But he pulled back again, and this time, the pressure on her throat increased. His hand rose, fingers cupping the back of her neck as he slowly dragged his hand up until he could tilt her head back, thumb roughly pulling her bottom lip from between her teeth before forcing its way into her mouth.

"Suck."

She could taste leftover vanilla soft serve, the sticky sweetness still clinging to his skin. And while she wanted to defy his edict, push back, fight him for control of the situation, she felt herself comply, lips sealing around his digit, sucking rhythmically as she held his gaze.

"Good girl." The praise was barely whispered, his lips lifted in just the slightest smirk, and suddenly, his hips snapped to hers, his cock filling her completely, causing her body to thump against the door.

She gasped around his thumb, momentarily forgetting that only paper thin walls and a door separated them from the outside world. A low moan rolled off her tongue around his thumb, filling the small room as he began to set a pace. Rough, long thrusts, her body rocking with each assault of his hips.

"Shhh…" His lips were at her ear, body pinning her to the cold door as he pushed his thumb farther into her mouth, tucking his index finger under her chin. "Don't want to get caught."

Logically, she knew. She knew that they needed to be quiet, that what they were doing was likely illegal (Maybe? He was the fucking lawyer, not her), and that humility should tell her to try and stifle her moans.

But that idea… The hidden exhibitionist inside her was thrilled at the possibility.

"_Fuck._ You want that, don't you?" His voice was syrupy, low and slow as he panted in her ear, hot breath painting her skin. "You filthy girl. You'd love to get caught on my cock, wouldn't you?"

Yes. Yes. _Yes!_

Her heart raced as she nodded, nails digging into his shoulders as his thrusts increased. If the steady _thump, thump, thump _of her body slamming against the door didn't give them away, the positively primal noises that slipped out of her mouth would.

His thumb drug across her lips, trailing saliva over her jaw until he curled his hand around her throat, but only applied the lightest hint of pressure, a firm but steady reminder of his control over not only her pleasure, but the situation. "Say it… tell me how fucking—"

She never considered herself weak. No. She was smart, educated, and by most accounts, witty and clever. She had headhunters contacting her on a near monthly basis to try and steal her from PaidPal because of her brilliance. But around Theo? She found herself completely and utterly bespelled by his presence.

That sound mind was gone, replaced by something that only seemed to operate on a near animalistic level.

"I'm filthy. I'm your—_ohgod, oh god, please!"_ Her voice cracked as his hand tightened its hold, limiting her air supply once more, and that familiar tingle of climax that had just begun to twist low in her belly snapped far quicker than she'd anticipated.

Her body trembled as she was unexpectedly thrown over that cliff, back arching off the door, just before her knees buckled. Had he not had a steady grip on her, she might have fallen to the floor and required a tetanus shot based on the rust covered shelving surrounding them.

Her world faded, technicolor stars bursting behind her eyes, as her struggling heartbeat pounded in her ears. Her lungs felt aflame and she struggled to breathe, Theo's thick fingers still tight around her neck. The lack of oxygen only seemed to prolong that euphoria of finding her bliss in the tiny closet.

She couldn't pinpoint how long she stayed there, left in the galactic haze of orgasm, but just as the colors began to fade to black and a warmed blissed out feeling started to sink in, her body was brought back to reality as she gasped her first lungful of fresh oxygen.

Theo's body was still pressing against her, hips seated completely against hers, and she could feel the rhythmic pulse of his cock as he emptied himself inside her. His lips were at her hairline, pressing sloppy kisses against her curls, while his hands were at her sides, thumbs stroking patterns over her ribs encouragingly. "So good. So bloody perfect."

"_Holy shit._" Her chest heaved, vision fuzzy as she sucked in new—albeit stale and full of closet air—breath. Her body quivered, like she was coming down off some adrenaline high, nerves firing at a rapid speed she wasn't even aware her body was capable of.

Her arms felt like lead when she draped them over his shoulders, slumping against his chest as she fought to find her footing. She'd had plenty of orgasms before—especially thanks to the man in her arms, but that? That was new. That was…

"You okay?" She could hear concern beneath his breathy voice, and based on the way his hands stroked her, almost reverently, she could sense an immediate regret for pushing the envelope just a tad further than normal.

"Yeah." Lifting her head from his chest, she reached up to cup his jaw. Her thumb stroked across his stubbled chin, taking in the day's growth, as she enjoyed the disheveled state he was in now.

While not Instagram worthy, _this_ was her favorite Theo. Well fucked and thoroughly sated.

"We should… uh…" She moistened her lips before a toothy smile took hold. "Do that again. Preferably with Draco."

He laughed, deep, throaty, and beautiful. It was quickly becoming one of her most favorite sounds in the world. Crackling fire. Crooks' purr. Theo's laugh, and Draco's sleepy heavy goodmorning noises. That would be her ASMR cocktail. Instant calm and happy Hermione Granger. Anxiety meds be damned.

Her heart soared as his hand rose, moving from her ribs to smooth back her curls and he gave her a look that screamed some four letter word she wasn't sure she was remotely ready to commit to, but damn if her heart wasn't betraying her mind.

He nodded, smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Yeah? I think we can arrange that."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

"I don't like **sand**. It's coarse, and rough, and irritating, and it gets everywhere." - Anakin Skywalker, Attack of the Clones.

"I don't like **sand.** It's coarse, and rough, and irritating, and it gets everywhere." - Anakin Skywalker, Attack of the Clones.

guys. I used the word pressed 23 times in this fucking chapter. twenty...three... times. It was fucking horrible. thank god for amazing beta's and alpha's because holy hot mess. this needed help.

thank you for kudos, likes, shares, rec's and the sort. you all rock. until next time. xx

you can find me on facebook! and in the Restricted Section: Multi + Triads Only (18+)


	19. Chapter 19

They'd stayed at the Boardwalk until early evening, enjoying the ocean waves and salty breeze while taking Eli on some of the aging carnival rides and eating far too many sweets. If they were back in San Jose, Hermione might have felt guilty about purchasing cotton candy _and_ ice cream within a four hour period, but they were on vacation. Surely a little extra sugar wouldn't that be bad?

For her, it was fine. It just meant she'd have to eat less carbs post-vacation, maybe skip the evening caffeine since the sugar high was likely to keep her up. And Elijah wouldn't be _that_ amped, right? He was four. They petered out regardless, right? Right?

_Ha! _

How naive she'd been.

That extra sugar had meant Eli's normal 7:30 bedtime ended up being closer to 10:00 by the time his beautiful green eyes finally closed for the night. He had fought it, as if afraid to miss out on some secret special plan they had. It was as if the moment his head hit the pillow, they'd bust out board games or new toys. Of course, none of that was going to happen. Not because board games weren't fun, but all three adults were dog-tired after a full day in the sun.

They'd kept him entertained until the hour stretched late, and by the time sleepy circles formed around his eyes like an adorable little panda, he demanded that Hermione be the one to tuck him in, and refused to let her leave—even _after _two bedtime stories.

Not that she minded.

She wasn't a parent, and truthfully, still struggled to imagine wanting children of her own one day, but it was moments like this—when Eli slept soundlessly on the pillow, his little hand curled around hers, plush lips parted with heavy breath, that she found it hard to deny that insistent ticking of her biological clock.

She swept her hand through his blond hair, letting the silken strands slip between her fingers as she stole an extra moment to watch him sleep, relishing how angelic his little face appeared while lost in Dreamland.

Detangling herself from his hold, she pressed a gentle kiss on the crown of his head and, with a surprising amount of grace, managed to slip off the mattress without waking him.

Maybe this whole parenting thing wasn't too bad. Evidently she had a knack for it.

Minus the whole sugar rush and subsequent crash, she'd managed to tuck Eli into bed without tears. That was a win in her book.

She left the door cracked, only a sliver of light cutting through the darkness of the bedroom, before she moved back into the living room, socked feet sliding across the tile floor.

When Theo originally had told her about this place, he'd clearly undersold it. Nestled in the Santa Cruz mountains, this was more of a bloody mansion than a house. Three bedrooms, spacious living areas, large backyard with a patio, built in fire pit, _and _a hot tub. It made her condo look like a fucking shack.

Of course, the best part was the master bedroom. Or, rather, the giant, plush king size bed that would sleep the three of them comfortably. Though, she did hope that _one_ night might not result in a lot of sleep.

The soft tones of the evening news echoed down towards her as she approached the living room, and when she rounded the corner, prepared to tease her men about being old enough to actually enjoy watching MSNBC, she found a rather intimate scene that made her feet stall.

Theo was in the middle of the couch, one arm braced over the back in a casual lean while his other was curled protectively around a very much asleep Draco. It appeared in her absence that Draco had claimed Theo's lap as a pillow and drifted off as they waited for her return.

Theo hadn't yet noticed her, watching the TV intently as he carded his fingers through Draco's hair in slow sweeping strokes. It was no wonder Draco ended up falling asleep, Hermione had fallen prey to those same comforting touches before.

Biting her bottom lip, she leaned against the entry frame, head touching the wall as she watched in silence.

They looked so perfect together. The tender touch, so subtle and practiced. While so much of their relationship was hidden behind closed doors and lived through text messages and late night Skype calls, it was easy to see their affections for one another when they were together.

It wasn't overt, and to anyone one the outside, it wasn't particularly noticeable, but given Theo's soft caress, and the way Draco's arm curled posessively around his boyfriend's tapered waist, even in his slumber, it was as plain as day to Hermione.

Clearing her throat to announce her presence, Hermione's smile widened when Theo glanced over his shoulder. Almost immediately, those forest green eyes began to sparkle in the dimmed light. "Hey you." Theo's voice was low, careful not to wake Draco as he shifted gingerly, spine straightening as she approached. "He go down okay?"

"Mhm." She moved around the couch, picking up the purple throw from where she'd left it tucked in the corner. "Easy enough—though, from the looks of it, Draco might have been easier than Eli."

A deep rumble of laughter shook Theo's chest, his eyes crinkling. God, he really was too fucking handsome. "Yeah. One minute we're watching Maddow and the next he's snoring. I know American politics are horrid, but they're usually, at the very least, entertaining."

"He's just used to other types of political excitement… like men in wigs shouting at one another. Which I would like to point out, feels kind of kinky for courtrooms."

"They stopped wearing them in 2007, Granger."

"Ahh, vintage kink then?"

Theo shook his head, eyes lifting towards the ceiling, but his smile told her everything she needed to know.

"You got room for one more?" Gesturing toward the open spot beside him, her teeth sunk into her bottom lip. She could have claimed the space without asking—she knew he never would have minded, but she wanted to be sure… to afford him the opportunity to have that moment in time just for him and Draco if he so chose. Because while she was all in on this relationship, she also knew that their relationship, fifteen years in the making, deserved priority—at least in her mind.

"For you? Always." He lifted his arm, opening himself to her both physically and metaphorically, and Hermione greedily took the spot. Her body nestled against him, head resting comfortably against his thick, muscled shoulder, and she laid a hand on Draco's arm, thumb sweeping across his sun-pinked skin.

The soft murmur from the talk show filled the room, though, aside from knowing the discussion was heated, Hermione didn't give a shit about whatever controversial topic was tonight's focus. Instead, she found herself watching Draco sleep, the slow and steady rise and fall of his chest, the way his blond eyelashes rested against his sharp cheekbones.

When he was awake he was always so stoic—serious and pragmatic, born and bred to be perfect in every way—but when he slept? He looked almost carefree, like he was able to let his guard down.

"How did you guys get together?" She glanced up from Draco, eyes finding Theo's.

"I thought I'd told you before." His fingers played with the ends of her curls, twisting and weaving the ocean-frizzed corkscrews through his fingertips. "At school."

A sharp laugh slipped up her throat and she shook her head. "No. I know that but like… how?" Surely there had to be more to that story right? Two proper little English boys didn't just decide at fifteen to give homosexual tendencies a go, right? There had to be build up. Some years of pining. Perhaps innocent hidden-in-empty-classroom kisses?

His fingers paused, and his brows furrowed for a moment, as if trying to remember how it all began. "Oh… uh." His eyes drifted away from hers, looking down to the man in his lap and he let out a short, breathy laugh. "I think… I'd always known I fancied him. On some level. We met when we were eight, and there was just something about him. He was… God, he was a bloody prat."

His hand paused on the crown of Draco's head, and another slow trickle of laughter worked up his throat, and birthed to life in the quiet room. "He uh… he wouldn't talk to anyone. Just hid in the library, or sat on the sidelines at the football pitch with a book. We'd try to get him to play with us and he just wouldn't. At the time, I thought him odd, but… once I found out, it made sense you know?" His smile spread, lifting the apples of his cheeks as he stared down at Draco.

The image Theo painted was oddly charming. A young blond boy huddled in books, silver eyes peeking over the top to side eye Theo and his rambunctious crew. She knew Eli favored his father in appearances, but she couldn't help but wonder how similar they were. Would a young Theo have been as charming and innocent as the little boy she just tucked in? If so, it was no wonder he and Draco had formed a friendship.

"I'd say we didn't become friends—not _real_ friends, at least—until nine or ten… and then… Well, fifteen is when we started _going steady_ as your lot puts it—"

"For the record, no one under the age of fifty uses that term. Just so you know."

Forest green eyes found hers, and the hand that had moved from her curls to lay on her shoulder tickled the skin at the junction of her neck playfully. "Alright. Well, we started dating at fifteen, but we'd… _experimented_ earlier. Nothing untoward, just kissing… a handjob in the library, but uh… It didn't get really physical until sixteen or seventeen."

"Nothing physical?" Hermione snorted, clearly they had very different definitions of physical, especially in the early teenage years. She could vividly remember Cory Jacobsen asking her to touch his cock at the 8th grade dance, and eighteen years later, the amount of embarrassment and disbelief that coursed through her veins made her cheeks flush. "A handjob seems pretty physical Theo."

"Not when you wank as much as a teenage boy does."

"Fair enough." She shifted on the couch, pulling her legs up onto the seat with her. "So what, you just decided to practice kissing and bam, suddenly you realise you have feelings for him?"

"No. No, I knew I liked him when we kissed, I'd come to terms with my attraction long before he had. I uh… I'm not really sure when Draco realised it, if I'm being honest. One day we were snogging in our dorm room, _practicing_, as you so eloquently put it, and then the next he called me his boyfriend—"

"Wait!" Her voice rose, a few decibels too high and when Draco stirred as a result, Hermione's eyes went wide, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. She waited, body thrumming with giddiness to make sure he stayed sleeping, before she continued in a low whisper. "He said it first?"

"He did. Shocked the shite out of me, too, but uh… I guess I didn't mind so much back then. It wasn't as if we were announcing it to the whole school, right? Just between us and the label felt nice I suppose. It let me know what I was feeling for him was reciprocated."

"So how did… How did you guys find out you were… uh.. You were…" Her hand lifted and she gave a lazy gesture between the three of them. "Ya know?"

"Poly?"

The term still felt foreign. Like she couldn't apply it to her situation quite yet, despite being an active participant in this budding relationship. "Yeah. Poly." Her tongue ran across her lips as she gave him a small nod. "How did you figure that out?"

"Well, this might come as a surprise, but—" His fingertips ran over her shoulder, tracing her collarbone before slipping down to brush across the swell of her breasts that peaked out over her tanktop's neckline. "I rather fancy women."

"No shit?"

"I know. Odd, right?"

Her hand captured his before he could tug down her top, slowly lacing their fingers together. She brought his hand to her mouth, lips brushing across his knuckles. "I'm serious."

"As am I. It was really quite simple. I knew I liked Draco, but… over the years I also knew we would never be able to have a normal relationship. Between my family, and his… Well, it's rather complicated by nobility and the small minded bigots we call fathers. I think the idea happened organically. He needed to bring a girl to an event when we were… God, seventeen, I think? Anyways, I helped him secure a date, and in the process _might_ have started to fancy her. Fit redhead. She was rather charming… and busty. Draco was upset, and we broke up for a bit but clearly that didn't last long."

"You two fought over a girl?" Hermione's brows lifted.

"Ha! Hardly. Draco would have won in an instant. He's always been far prettier than me." Theo's smile spread as he looked down to the sleeping blond, fingers once more returning to stroke through his hair. "No, I got jealous, he got jealous. We fought, because that's what teenage boys do, and then we fucked and made up, because that's what _we_ do. That was just the beginning, though, of us realising that we needed each other, but maybe we needed something—_someone_—else, too."

It seemed so simple. The way he described recognizing this feeling, the same one she still warred with. She knew her feelings for Theo were valid, real, and very much returned, but the ones she felt for Draco were equal. It wasn't wrong, wanting to be with both of them, and they were all in a relationship, but it still felt… wrong. Years of being told these types of feelings were only allowed between two parties was hard to move past, especially when she'd never dared to consider this possibility before.

"Love isn't simple. It never looks the way you think it should. Don't misunderstand me, I'm not saying that _this,_" his hand lifted from Draco and moved in a triangle between them, "is love, but what I am saying is this feels… it feels _right_. Being here with you _and _Draco, watching you both play with Eli. It feels right—perfect even—and for the first time in a rather long time, being with you both… Well, it feels like home."

* * *

She'd decided somewhere between day two and three that she never wanted to leave.

It had little to do with the men that helped her warm the bed, and absolutely everything to do with the house.

It was stunning. The location, the amenities and okay, _yes_, enjoying it with Draco, Theo, and Eli was nice.

Unfortunately, today was their final day.

They were going to wake up, pick up breakfast as opposed to cooking, and leave mid-morning. Under normal circumstances, she would have been thrilled to return to her condo. There was something about returning to her own space that was always blissful after time away.

But her condo didn't have a hot tub, or a Tempurpedic mattress, or heated flooring.

And it certainly didn't have Draco.

Theo had risen early with Eli, who practically vibrated with unspent energy as he burst into their room that morning ,reminding them all that he'd been promised donuts. Graciously, Theo volunteered as tribute and got out of bed, leaving her and Draco to snuggle in while he shucked on something halfway decent to make the drive into town.

She tried to go back to sleep.

Tried to close her eyes and drift back into dreamland for even just twenty more minutes, but it was impossible. Not with the sunlight peeking through the thin curtains, and certainly not with the press of Draco's cock against her ass.

His body was molded around hers, an arm draped loosely over her middle, his face tucked against her mess of curls. He rutted against her slowly, that sleepy, early morning grind that made her question if this was induced by twilight euphoria, or if he was awake behind her.

But when his hand moved, slipping beneath her oversized sleep shirt to palm at her breasts, she knew.

"Draco." His name slipped off her tongue, voice still thick with sleep, when she felt his fingertips pluck at her nipples, twisting the budding peaks between his wicked fingers.

He hummed, the vibrations rumbling against her back as he nuzzled into her curls; hot puffs of breath trickled across her skin. "Morning." His arm underneath their shared pillow shifted, curling upward until he could gather her curls off the side of her neck to place sloppy kisses at her throat.

The thin scrap of cotton that Victoria Secret labeled as sleep shorts and the silk-like cotton from his stupidly expensive boxer briefs did absolutely nothing to dampen the feeling of his manhood as he rocked against her.

Her eyes cracked open, catching a bleary glimpse of the alarm clock on the nightstand.

**08:00**

It was eight in the fucking morning. Far too early to be awake, and certainly far too early to be thinking about sex, but despite her wish to hibernate, when his hand moved away from her breasts and crossed her abdomen, Hermione's thighs parted.

Her body hummed, practically purring with need by the time his fingers slipped beneath the thin elastic of her sleep shorts, and when he brushed two fingers across her slit, a whimper bubbled up her throat.

It had been two days since the janitorial closet romp, and sex had been decidedly off the table since then. Not that they hadn't made a valiant effort, but it was rather hard with a rambunctious four-year-old who kept them on their toes all day. When night did finally come, her eyes were typically closed before her head hit the pillow.

The ache between her thighs had disappeared, but the thrumming desire to be intimate with her boyfriends... Well, that hadn't faded so easily.

"_Fuck_." His curse sent a shiver down her spine, her hips tipping forward toward his fingers as she gripped the sheets. They didn't have long, surely he knew this. Theo and Eli had left only minutes earlier, and yes, the cabin was tucked up into the mountains and a short drive to the nearest shopping center, but Theo drove the Audi just a little too quickly on the winding mountain roads.

"Please." She didn't know if she was begging for his fingers to slip inside her or keep stroking across her slit, or perhaps for him to sink his cock inside her and claim her as his own. Truth be told, both options sounded divine. "I need you."

He hesitated, body going rigid behind her, hands still against her skin, as if the plea had lulled him into a stupor, but when she pushed back, arching her lower back to wiggle her arse against him, he found his bearings.

His hand moved swiftly, pushing boxers down her hips and thighs, and she assisted in sliding them from her body, kicking the useless garment beneath the covers where it would likely get lost in the tangle of bed linens.

His hands slipped down her body, splayed wide across her thigh, caressing the supple expanse of her skin as he hooked her leg back over his hip. "Say it again." His voice trembled, fingertips dancing over the jut of her hip before moving back to push his boxers lower. "Tell me you need me."

"I need you, Draco. Please I—_Oh fuck."_

He pushed inside her, no preamble or foreplay, no haughty words like their boyfriend might whisper into love bitten skin, and certainly no prolonged pleading.

No. Sex with Draco was far from a power play, or some need to assert his dominace. It was like the foamy waves of the Pacific that they'd just visited. A beautiful symphony. Slow, filling, hitting depths inside her without force, coaxing the feelings from her.

He worked slowly, grinding his hips each time he bottom out, eliciting small gasps as she tried to remember precisely how to breathe through the drudging pleasure.

Her fingers tangled in the sheets, the corner curling over the mattress, giving her move leverage as she lost herself in the slow bloom of pleasure until she no longer cared about the world around her.

It could have been the fact that it was so early, and she hadn't had a drop of coffee yet. Or, perhaps, the prolonged foreplay of stolen kisses over the course of their family-filled weekend vacation, but that familiar tension coiled low in her belly far earlier than she'd anticipated.

Her thighs trembled, weak and needy, as her core fluttered around him in her impending slip into bliss. Incoherent babbles of his name mixed with other words she wasn't certain were part of the English language danced off her tongue, but he didn't need a Rosetta Stone to understand precisely what she needed.

No, only two short months into knowing Hermione, Draco was more than fluent in the language of her body. His tongue practiced and perfected, and fingers nimble.

He mouthed at the pulse point on her neck, sucking a new love bite into the unbroken skin, as his hand crept higher and higher and higher on his thigh, until his fingers brushed across her folds that parted for his cock.

He coated his fingers in their combined essence before moving to brush them across her clit, nestling the swollen bud in the valley between his fore and middle fingers. With swift, yet gentle swirls, she could feel herself slip away.

Her climax was slow and steady—each drag from his cock in and out of her body, each brush against her clit. Like a smoldering fire that refused to snuff out. She could feel it from the tips of her toes, to the roots of her hair, every nerve ending aflame, relishing in the pleasure that he gave to her so willingly.

Her world seemed to expand and narrow at the same time, though its only focus seemed to begin and end with the man behind her.

She couldn't explain it, and heaven forbid someone wanted a definition. The way she felt about him, about Theo, about _them_ was overwhelming. Frankly, it scared the shit out of her, but it felt right. Like perhaps the years of heartache and tears shed over stupid, immature men were worth it if it meant she ended up with not one, but _two _amazing men.

Her body was over-stimulated as she quivered through the aftershocks of her bliss, but she didn't dare ask him to stop. Instead, she held on, one arm linking around the back of his neck, the other curled into the mattress. She closed her eyes tight, fighting to stay coherent through the blooming nirvana.

When he found his end, cock pulsing deep inside her, his seed slipping out of her body and across her sticky thighs, she could have sworn she heard a mumble of his devotion against the raised skin on her neck. But she wouldn't ask for it to be spoken louder.

There was something about the way he whispered the affections against her skin—like they were treasures hidden from the world, only to be shared between the three parties involved—that made her heart soar.

And while she was eager to explore the significance of the triad in her life, she was perfectly happy to keep those declarations of devotions hushed whispers… for now.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Hiiii. Hope ya enjoyed. Still not sure what to put in these things... so yeah... bye.

until next time. xx


	20. Chapter 20

_Lunch with Harry? Again?_

_Should I be jealous?_

Despite her best efforts to hide that stupid fucking grin that popped up on her face every damn time Draco texted, Hermione could feel her lips curl upward.

**It's Monday. We always eat lunch on Mondays. **

**And no. Harry is my best friend.**

_I feel it necessary to point out I ended up shagging my best friend, so that's not a very comforting explanation._

**I love Harry (like a brother), but I would rather have a pap smear that fuck him.**

"You cannot be serious."

Hermione looked up, fork still resting limply in mid-air, dressing dripping from the lettuce back into the plastic container. "What?" She took her bite, crunching through the caesar-dressed romaine as she lifted a brow.

"Don't 'what' me." Lifting a fry from his styrofoam, he wagged it at her. "I haven't seen you in five bloody days, and you're going to ignore me for what? Farmville?"

"_Actually_, Draco is texting me."

"Oh. His royal highness. That's so much better." Harry leaned back in his chair, popping the fry in his mouth as he kicked his feet up on the desk. The tread of his well-worn Vans stared back at her. "Just put that bloody thing away for two goddamn minutes and talk to me."

"Alright, drama queen." She flipped her phone over so the incoming messages wouldn't tempt her—_for now._ Piercing another bit of her salad, she pulled the plastic container into her lap as she leaned back in the stationary office chair. "What's up?"

"_What's up?" _Harry laced his fingers behind his neck, elbows splayed wide. "Oh, I don't know… How about we start with you telling me about your damn vacation with… with…"

"With my boyfriends?"

"So that's the term we're using?"

"What else would they be?"

His shoulders lifted, black frames slipping down his nose. "I have no bloody idea! I tried to look up proper lingo on Reddit, but ended up finding porn—which I wasn't opposed to, until Gin said something about you lot trying out whatever position was on my screen and—" His eyes closed with a full body shudder, and had she not held similar thoughts about his intimate life, she _might_ have been offended by his clearly _visceral _reaction. "I don't think I've ever exited a bloody browser so fast."

Setting her fork down, Hermione used her napkin to wipe her mouth as she tried to fight back the wave of laughter. "Well, for starters, they are my boyfriends and, not that you want to, or need to—"

"Oh god, please don't—"

"—but we've only had sex—"

"'Mione _please,_ for love of all things holy and pure in this world—"

"—once." Leaning forward, she held up her index finger, wagging it at her friend as he let out a low groan. "Which did not leave a lot of time for Kama Sutra pursuits, but if you have any suggestions, please feel free to send them my way." Clearly it was a joke. Even if their years of friendship hadn't equipped him to detect her sarcasm, the thickly laid drawl to her normally clipped cadence would have given her away.

"You're an absolute twat sometimes." Harry nudged the edge of the container holding his leftover fries toward her, already knowing her ulterior motive for leaning forward.

She tried to be somewhat healthy. Eat salads, take the stairs versus the elevator (on occasion, she was no saint), and _technically,_ if _she _didn't order them, the calories shouldn't count, right? At least, that's what she told herself as she plucked a lukewarm fry off the tray. "You love me."

He swung his legs off the desk, his feet thumping against the floor, before snatching his bottle of Coke from the corner beside his laptop. "Selfishly, yes. However, my affection for you does not negate the fact that I have no desire to know _any _of your bedroom proclivities."

Hermione's brow furrowed, eyes narrowing on her friend as a fry hung between parted lips. Three years. She'd known Harry for going on three years now, and rarely heard him utilize the English language to even half of its capacity.

She knew he was educated—Oxford or Cambridge or some other pretentious school in England—but she'd grown so used to the overly casual manner in which they usually conversed that when he _did _decide to dust off that weird little octagonal graduation cap he kept hung on his home office wall, well… it always left her kind of aghast.

"Did you… uh—" Clearing her throat, she fought back the laughter that was simmering inside. "I think you might have just hit your big word quota for the month, Potter."

Harry, who had been mid-guzzle of his cola, snorted. His hand quickly came up to cover his mouth as he tried to subdue his laughter long enough to swallow the mouthful of Coke. "Touché." His eyes crinkled with his wide smile, glimmering in the soft light of his office. "So, how was your trip?"

Scooting to the edge of her chair, her knees pressed against his desk as she leaned forward to let her elbows rest on its surface. "Honestly? It was kind of… amazing."

Hermione didn't gush—she was _never_ one of those types of girls. She _hated_ those types of girls, which is exactly why her and Ginny got along so well. Neither gushed, nor fawned. Neither made that annoying high pitched squeal, nor jumped up and down and flailed like some small flightless bird when something exciting happened. No, they were both decidedly logical and straightforward about their emotions and retellings of events.

But right now?

Right now, Hermione kinda, sorta… maybe just a little bit felt like gushing.

Letting the gut-tightening giddiness fill her, she could feel the need to verbally vomit crawl up her throat as a mile wide smile stretched across her lips. "The house was fantastic. Ocean view bedroom, and a fucking hot tub—you know how much I want a hot tub!"

"I do." Harry nodded and she would have to give it to him, he at least looked vaguely interested in what she had to say.

"Anyways, the house was great. Very modern. Lots of gadgets I didn't understand. You would have appreciated it. We spent a lot of time at the beach and boardwalk. I got funnel cake, and those almonds Gin talked about. Oh! Speaking of food, candy floss? Seriously? It's _cotton candy. _What is wrong with your people."

Harry cocked a brow. "Because cotton candy makes so much more sense."

"Uh… excuse me?" Using a fry as a pointer, she directed the end at him. "It absolutely does. It looks like a fluffy ball of cotton on the end of a stick. If you mistake soft, fluffy poofs for floss, well… then it's no fucking wonder your people have the bad teeth stereotype."

"You know what?" Harry shook his head, brow furrowing as he lifted a hand to wave her on. "I am not even going to dignify that with a response. Back on topic. Beach, boardwalk, etcetera…"

"Oh, right. Uh… I ate shit food, it was fantastic. We took Eli to—"

"Whoa!" Harry seemed to perk up, his brows lifting nearly to his hairline as surprise ignited in his eyes. "You guys brought _Eli?"_

"Yeah…" Hermione cocked her head to the side, trying to gauge the way Harry seemed to absorb such a trivial detail. She knew Eli. She'd been around the boy more times than she could even remember, and clearly Draco knew him. It wasn't as if this was a new thing—technically the dating aspect was, but she'd been sleeping with Theo for two years and had been acquainted with Eli for just as long.

His hand rose to the top of his hair, fingers twisting the unruly locks into small peaks—his tell. Harry was thinking, which was never a good sign. "So… he knows?"

"He knows…"

"That you're dating his dad and the royal?"

_The royal_? While Hermione knew he didn't mean for it to sound judgemental or harsh, that twinge of annoyance rippled through her building giddy. It was sharp and sudden, like when she stubbed her pinky toe on the corner of her couch. The immediate need to defend Draco was visceral, and for half a second, she had heat poised on her tongue, ready to fire.

But this was Harry.

Her best friend.

The man who, despite his hesitations, accepted her new relationship status. The same man who likely grew up with Draco's name and image printed on tabloids and magazines. It only made sense for him to associate Draco with that nickname. It was logical, and just as quickly as the flames ignited, they lowered to a simmer.

She angled her body so she could cross her legs, fingers smoothing across her slacks. "Yes, Eli is aware that I am dating Theo and _Draco_." Emphasis was put on his name, making sure to catch his eye so the unspoken point could be understood. "We didn't make a thing about it. Theo just told him that he and Draco were dating me, and I would be around more."

Harry nodded, lips pressed together as his eyes dropped to his desk. He was staring intently at the chipped varnish, as if he were suddenly interested in woodworking, but she knew what it was.

He was holding back, refraining from saying something. While part of her wanted to let him keep whatever likely unnecessary comment he had, her nosey, childish inner voice would absolutely never allow that to happen.

"What?"

Harry looked up, grimacing as he leaned back in his chair, hands falling lamely in his lap. "Isn't this all kind of… I don't know… fast?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" The question slipped off her tongue before she could even prevent it, and she watched Harry immediately recoil in some attempt to backtrack, stumbling over noises that were likely supposed to be words. "Ah, no. Stop." She held up her hand, lips pursing. "Look, I get it. This is… new for you. Part of that is technically my fault because I didn't tell you that Theo and I were sleeping together, but… Harry, this isn't new. I mean, yes, the relationship side is, but I've known Theo for almost as long as I've known you.

"And while I can—and do—acknowledge this might seem sudden, if you think logically about it, it really isn't. The only new part is Draco, and… Well, frankly, I'm kind of just letting things fall where they may at this point. Am I worried about how this might turn out? Abso-fucking-lutely. I'm petrified. But I feel like I owe this—_them_ a chance. I'm thirty, never been married, never really had a long term relationship and… fuck it. Why not give it a shot? Traditional dating hasn't played in my favor."

Leaning forward, her hand sought out Harry's, fingers wiggling at him until he met her halfway across his desk and laced his fingers with hers. "I appreciate your concern. For me… for Theo, and Eli and Draco, but… What do I have to lose at this point? Two hot British men want to date me. It feels like a fucking dream ninety percent of the time, and frankly, if it is, I'm not sure I want to wake up just yet."

Harry, whose eyes had begun to soften on her with a tenderness normally reserved for his wife and sappy movies involving animals (fucking _Hachi: A Dog's Tale_ had nearly destroyed both of them), let out a small laugh, nodding as he squeezed her hand. "You're right… You're absolutely right. I was prepared to share you with one guy eventually… but two?" He let out a heavy breath, shaking his head.

"Harry, if you think you won't always have a place in my life, you're insane—or daft as you say. You're my best friend—my _family_. You couldn't get rid of me if you tried."

The corners of his eyes lifted, a soft smile curling his lips, and for the first time, his hesitation and reluctance made sense. She'd known he was concerned about her—he'd made that very clear—but this careful, methodical hesitance was something more. It was based in fear of losing her. "Promise you won't go anywhere?"

Her thumb swept across his knuckles and she could feel the cold press of his wedding ring slip beneath the pad. "I promise… though, I _kind of_ already told Draco I would go to London with him in a couple weeks." She grimaced playfully as she lifted her shoulders. "So, I guess you'll have to do without me for two weeks or so."

"London? Holy shit. You're going to take a trip to another country with him?!"

"Oh please, it's England, Harry, not fucking China." She scoffed, slowly unlacing her fingers in favor of grabbing a few more fries. "You guys speak English and I'm fairly certain I can find food."

"Okay, first off, you refused to come with Gin and I last year because, and I quote, international travel is"—his hands lifted, index and middle fingers flexing—"_kind of a big commitment."_

"Don't use air bunnies with me."

"I'm just saying! I'm not in a bloody relationship with you and you didn't want to come."

Thoughts swirled around in her mind like tides in the ocean. She could provide what felt like a million explanations to justify why she agreed to his proposition. Draco offered to pay, for starters. She'd never been to London and it sounded like fun—even if she was required to attend some fancy ball while there. He asked her after going down on her once they'd returned from Santa Cruz, and she was always more amenable post orgasm.

But there was really only one truth that mattered.

"I figured if I'm going to do this… date Theo _and_ Draco, I might as well give it my all, right?" She took a bite of the lukewarm fries, chewing thoughtfully. "That way, if it doesn't work out, I can at least say I tried."

* * *

"Knock knock."

The day had gone by rather quickly following lunch. Back to back meetings, signing off on hiring paperwork for new executives, and keeping up with Draco's marathon of texts seemed to make the last five hours of her day pass in the blink of an eye.

Which was much appreciated, because she was eager to get out of her work clothes and slip into something more comfortable.

She'd made it through rush hour traffic in record time, fed Crooks, and had just changed into her favorite page of yoga pants when the text came through.

_Granger, can we reschedule tonight? Stuck at the office. xx_

It wasn't the first time he'd canceled plans—Netflix didn't care about his personal life, and sometimes urgent contracts appeared with little notice. And she doubted it would be the last.

Before she would just shrug, toss her phone on the bed, and spend the evening eating take-out and watching trashy reality TV, before fishing out that purple friend in her nightstand drawer—Tracy's Dog ended up being her best impulse Amazon purchase to date.

But this time was different.

They were dating, a couple—kind of. Technically, they were a throuple, but she wasn't really worried about the semantics; it didn't change the fact that she was unwilling to take 'sorry, work came up' as a proper excuse anymore.

No, he lost the ability to use that card the moment he decided to make this something more than late night booty calls.

She debated changing for approximately two seconds, before deciding that by the time she made it to Los Gatos, there would be little chance of others being in his office. Maybe security… possibly his secretary. Certainly no one who would judge her for wearing Old Navy leggings and a UCLA hoodie.

Pulling her curls up into a large and messy knot on the top of her head, she stuffed her feet into a well worn pair of Vans and headed out, not bothering to return his text.

She stopped at Togo's as she neared his office and picked up two sandwiches, and made her way onto the Netflix campus to surprise Theo with a late, unromantic meal, but she hoped he'd appreciate her initiative just the same.

Sure, she didn't change out of her comfy clothes, and yes it was _just _Togo's, but she remembered his order and drove all the way from her condo. Clearly she deserved brownie points.

Preferably in the form of sexual favors, but she also accepted Starbucks gift cards.

Turning the handle, she pushed the heavy wooden door open, a small smile gracing her lips as the image of a work disheveled Theo appeared. He was behind his desk, laptop nestled in its docking station, fingers hovering above the wireless keyboard as he looked over the rim of his glasses at her with raised brows.

"I come bearing sustenance." The plastic bag swayed in her grip as she raised it.

Thick fingers wrapped around the side of his readers, and he tossed them beside his keyboard, a slow grin falling into place, washing away the look of surprise as he rose from his office chair. "What on earth are you doing here, Granger?"

Half of his button down hung loose from his pants, his sleeves rolled carelessly up to his elbows, exposing the sinewy muscles of his forearms. Had she not noticed the bags under his eyes upon his approach, she might've considered forgoing the sandwiches and asking him to bend her over his desk.

_That_ particular fantasy was always fun to play out, but he looked… exhausted. Like he'd run ragged all day and was still hours away from finishing up.

Previously, she might have ignored the bloom of concern that erupted in the center of her chest. She would have told herself it wasn't her place to worry about Theodore Nott. He was a fucking adult and knew what choices he was making. And _yes_, that was all still very fucking true, but it was different now, wasn't it? It _should _be different.

She'd committed to being with him and Draco, which meant she'd committed to looking out for her men.

And while she was shit at most things, this? This she was decent at.

"Making sure you break to eat." She closed the distance between them, rising up on her toes to press a quick peck against his lips as she looped her arm around his neck. "Completely unselfishly with zero ulterior motives, I might add."

"Is that so?" His arms wound around her waist, fingers teasing the slip of skin at her lower back beneath the hoodie as his smile crinkled his eyes. "How positively altruistic of you."

"I try." She cocked her head to the side, feigning innocence as she looked up at him. Her fingers brushed across his trapezius, feeling the tension even in the slight stroke. She bit her bottom lip as she cupped his face, thumb sliding across his stubbled jaw.

His eyes fluttered close, head tilting into her touch, silently relishing the sweet embrace in a way she'd only seen him do on particularly rough days. Theo dominated their private encounters, needing some sort of control that she was all too happy to relinquish, but sometimes—just sometimes—he needed to be taken care of.

"Hey you." Her voice was soft, like how she might speak to his son in moments the four-year-old needed some kindness. "You okay?"

He nodded, eyes remaining closed, arms still holding her close. "Just a long day."

Fuck if she didn't know _that_ feeling.

"Then it's a good thing I came, huh?" She slipped from his hold after another quick kiss, fingers trailing off his jaw as she moved around him. "Want to talk about it while we eat?"

"Honestly? Not really." He didn't look defeated necessarily, but his shoulders slumped as he turned around, watching her drag one of his chairs around his desk so they could sit side by side.

Careful not to ruin whatever semblance of organization he claimed to have going on on his desk, she set the bag down and pulled out their respective sandwiches and bottles of cola (diet for her because Santa Cruz definitely didn't help her figure). "Fair enough."

"Why don't you tell me about your day?" Heavy footsteps carried him back to his chair, and he claimed it with a flop, swiveling to face her as he gestured toward his laptop. "Distract me from this mess."

Hermione settled into her chair, casually crossing her legs at the knee as she leaned back and uncapped her Diet Coke. "You _really_ want to know about my day? I work in HR, Theo. I can almost assure you that it's fucking boring compared to what you do."

"Of course I want to know about your day, Granger." He spoke as if it was absurd for her to assume otherwise, that slight scoff lining his words. "While the day-to-day of human resources is not exactly stimulating, no offense—"

"None taken."

"But it involves _you,_ so…" Broad shoulders lifted in a shrug before he leaned forward to pick up the wrapped sandwich.

It was hard to remember a time before there were _them._ Rationally, she knew it was only a few short months ago that she was woefully single and sneaking into his townhome late at night. But this casual comfort they shared was intoxicating, as if time had no bearing on the space they shared and she had always been his and Draco's.

"_Ha_… okay. If you insist." She took a quick gulp of her soda, loosely screwing the cap on, before she opened her bag of Flamin' Hot Cheetos. She watched him examine the scrawl on the sub sandwich, trying to decipher the sloppy print from the teen who'd prepared their meal, as if he wouldn't eat anything she'd placed in front of him. Not because he wouldn't dislike certain things (like tuna), but he was the type of man who would grin and bear it before biting the hand that feeds him.

Smart man.

However, by now he had to know she paid attention to detail. Especially when it came to him and their boyfriend.

"It's an Italian on sourdough. No dressing, add mustard, extra banana peppers." She popped a cheeto in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully as she peered into the small bag in search of the next perfectly shaped chip.

"What?"

"Your sandwich. That's what you order, right?" Her brow quirked as she looked back up. "I couldn't remember what chips you liked more. Sometimes you grab the salt and vinegar, sometimes the regular Lays. I opted for the salt and vinegar because… Well, I wanted some."

She didn't bother looking up, still busy on her quest for the next properly sized Cheeto. After all, why would remembering someone's sandwich order be important? But before she could find the next flaming hot morsel, Theo was on her.

Or rather, she was on him.

He'd pulled her out of the chair quickly, no request or warning given, before she was being hoisted effortlessly into his lap, large hands curled around her sides. She flailed, tossing her bag onto his desk, spilling the bright red chips across his work. "Theo! What the fu—"

His lips were on hers, silencing the confusion and shock with a kiss that felt so foreign coming from her dominant boyfriend. It was kind, gentle, but that pulsing need was still ever-present, lingering behind an odd sort of appreciation.

Her hands settled against his chest, fingers brushing across the crisp line of his pressed collar as she melted against his body. Okay, yes, she was hungry, but this? This could trump dinner any time.

His nose nudged hers gently as he broke their liplock, channeling his inner feline as he nuzzled against her. "You're… you're incredible."

It was supposed to be sweet, his whispered declaration. She _knew_ that his praise was not just about a fucking sandwich and chip order, but she couldn't stop the incredulous laughter that slipped up her throat. Because _really?_ This type of reaction over Togo's? What the hell would he do if she brought him a real meal?

"It's just a sandwich, Theo." Lifting her hand, she brushed her fingers through his untidy hair, pushing the length back across the crown of his head.

"No. It's not that." He leaned back in his chair, holding her hips steady so she didn't slip from his lap. "You're just… Well, let's just say I am kicking myself for not trying to court you when we first met."

"Court me? Oh, is that what this is?" Her smile spread, toothy and wide in that 'unable to control her own happiness' sort of way.

"Yes. Draco and I have made our intentions very well known at this point."

"I _know_ that but… court me? It sounds so fancy." She shifted in his lap, swinging her legs until she straddled his waist. Her thick thighs squeezed through the narrow opening between his legs and the arm of the chair with minimal effort. "Draco's the royal one and he doesn't even use words like that."

"Not around you. I can assure you his dictionary is full of pretentious adjectives that would make your pretty eyes roll." His thumb stroked the jut of her hip, the corner of his eyes crinkling with amusement. "I can have him prove me right if you'd like."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Come home with me"

Home.

The word sent a shiver down her spine, but not because she was certain there was an unspoken promise of something more than just an extensive vocabulary awaiting her if she did go with him.

No, because some growing part of her longed to find space in that word with both of them. Like a cancer, this feeling was spreading, making her question the edict she'd long held dear.

Her tongue swept across her lips, fingers twisting the ends of his locks. She debated the merits of his request. She hadn't spent a proper night at her own condo in what felt like ages. She had a cat to care for and a stack of mail to sort through.

But Theo's place did have a nice bed, was technically closer to work, _and _had two hot British men.

Fuck it.

"Okay, but no funny business tonight." She dropped her hand from his hair, tapping his nose with her index finger when his brows set in confusion. "You look like shit, no offense, and could probably use a good night's sleep."

Theo scoffed, lips pursing to the corner of his mouth in defiance. "Okay fine." He huffed after several moments of contemplative silence. "However, I would like to point out that you didn't stipulate I couldn't watch..._"_

* * *

**Author's Note:**

the end is near! five more chapters. holy crap. that's happening.

until next time. xx


	21. Chapter 21

It was early—far earlier than Hermione preferred. She had been sleeping, blissfully curled in Draco's arms, when he roused her from a rather enjoyable dream with tender kisses.

She thought he might be getting handsy.

She'd hoped that would be the case, but once her eyes were opened, body humming in response to his sweet touch, he broke the bad news.

They were getting up early to meet Theo at Alviso Marina County Park—something she had entirely forgotten she'd committed to. To be fair, who the hell agrees to an eight a.m. hike on a Saturday anyway? Scratch that, who the fuck agrees to hiking at all?

After reluctantly crawling from the cocoon of safety that was her bed, she donned stretchy leggings and a hoodie, threw her hair up in a messy bun, and demanded Draco take her through the closest Starbucks for a much needed cup of coffee.

The ride to Alviso Marina was quiet, only the soft sound of top 40 pop hits played across the early morning air waves as she sipped on her blonde Red Eye, letting the catchy tunes fill the comfortable silence.

Draco, bless him, was a morning person. She could practically sense his eagerness to talk by the way his fingers drummed against the steering wheel as they crept down the long drive to the parking lot.

For now, his perkiness was endearing, charming even, though she knew part of that was the adorable 'new dick' energy that came with a new relationship. Everything he did was captivating and made her eager to learn more about him.

As they pulled into the parking lot, the red taillights from Theo's Audi were like a beacon on a foggy day at sea. Draco crept through the parking lot and claimed the empty space next to their boyfriend.

Theo was wide awake, which was unsurprising considering he was _also _a morning person. She adored them, but _that_ was probably the one thing about these men she wished she could change. Their utterly annoying 'get up and go' attitude in regards to morning routines was unnatural.

"Ready?" Draco took a sip of his tea, blond brows wagging over the paper cup.

"If I said no, would you take me back to my condo?"

"Not a chance."

"Worth a shot." Hermione lifted her shoulders in a defeated shrug. While she wasn't a morning person, and the idea of trekking through nature before the clock hit double digits was literally a form of torture, she couldn't possibly imagine doing it with anyone else.

With her cup curled in her hand like a security blanket, Hermione slipped from the BMW, the crisp morning air cutting right through the athletic leggings she'd borrowed from Ginny—thanking her lucky stars that neither man would see the maternity label she'd ripped out.

"Morning Gorgeous." Theo was leaning against the sleek car, a San Francisco Giants cap covering his hair. Dark stubble coated his cheeks, evidence that he'd raced to meet his partners here in favor of taking time to get ready for the day.

"Morning." Her greeting was mumbled against his lips as she rose on her toes, looped her arm around his neck, and pulled him into a chaste peck.

"Mmm… espresso? You didn't hold back this morning, did you?" His palms moved across her back, stroking down her spine until he possessively palmed her ass.

"Easy there." Draco's voice cut over the soft sound of the bay's water lapping at the shore, and soon the chill that coated her back was replaced with a familiar warmth. "Save some for me."

She could feel Theo's smile against her lips, and before she'd had her share of his kisses, he was pulling away to lean over her and greet their boyfriend.

One of Draco's hands curled around her hip, grounding her in the moment, as the other cupped Theo's cheek and pulled him in for a kiss. It still felt surreal, watching the pair of them—knowing that in addition to having each other, they both had her.

Those pesky butterflies broke from their cocoons, tickling her stomach, and she bit her bottom lip in a poor attempt to suppress her smile. The warmth of being trapped between their bodies, watching the love pour from one another, the feel of their hands against her—she wasn't sure she would ever get used to it.

Truth be told, she wasn't sure if she wanted to.

"Good morning, Theodore," Draco murmured against their boyfriend's lips before he drew back, a sly smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.

"Morning, Draco." That crooked smile, the same one that stole her heart many moons ago, was plastered across his face, and had Hermione not been sandwiched between the men, she might have melted into a puddle from the way they were looking at one another.

Seeing how utterly in love they were, it was hard not to give in to the feelings of guilt that came with this new lifestyle. She believed them when they said they wanted _this,_ but years of monogamy and the traditional love stories filling her head made it difficult to mentally transition to accepting this triad as normal—as _right_.

She knew within her soul that this worked—it made sense and felt effortless—but she constantly had to beat her inner self into submission every time those familiar feelings of guilt and shame rose to the surface.

Because while yes, this wasn't traditional, it was absolutely working.

"Alright you two." Hermione lifted her hand from Theo's shoulder to wave between their faces, breaking that movie-esque romantic gaze they were locked in. "Did I wake up at six a.m. just so you two could snuggle me in a parking lot? Because if so, might I propose we take this back to my condo? It's closest and—"

"Please, Granger." Theo's fingers trailed off her hips as he stepped back, plucking her coffee from her hand as he left her orbit and took two large steps towards the trail's head. "You've got to earn any sort of rest today." He made a show of tipping back her coffee, adam's apple bobbing with each mouthful.

"Hey!" Hermione tried to move forward, but was held back when Draco curled his arm around her middle. "Theo, stop! That's my coffee!"

"He's really doing you a favor, Hermione." Draco chuckled, holding her firmly against his front, despite her attempts to wiggle free. "You wouldn't want to have to wee on the trail, and from what I've read online, there aren't any washrooms out there."

Her heart sank as she watched Theo finish off the last of her coffee, and the efforts to free herself from Draco's vice-like grip ceased. Logically, she knew they were right. She was cursed with a tiny bladder, and coffee _did_ run right through her, but it was early—ungodly so. Like church goers didn't even wake up _this_ early for worship.

And Theo didn't even _like _coffee. He tolerated it, at best, but absolutely did not appreciate the sweet nectar of the Gods like she did.

"You two are assholes." Hermione crossed her arms over her bust, brow setting.

Draco stepped around her, playfully patting her shoulder in a mockery of sympathy as he moved to Theo's side. "Hardly."

"Well I'm not going now." Was it dramatic? Yes. But there was absolutely no way she was going to trapeze down some fucking trail at—

"Fine. Just tell the coyotes hi for me." Theo slung his arm around Draco's shoulder, empty paper cup held betwixt his fingers as he turned them around to begin toward the trail head.

"Coyotes?" No… there was no way. They were still in the city for Christ's sake.

Draco shot a look over his shoulder, gray eyes twinkling with something she'd just begun to realise was mischief. "And snakes. They'll start to come out to sun."

_Fuck that!_

She could deal with a lot. The occasional dirty nappy. Crickets. Shady looking neighborhoods. None of it bothered her. But snakes? Fucking _snakes?! _No, absolutely not.

Never.

"Wait for me!"

* * *

"Wait… wait, did I hear that right?"

Draco sighed. "Unfortunately."

"Mylo is… is short for _My Lord?"_

It has just hit ten a.m., and while the cool breeze from the bay still kept that autumnal crispness in the air, the sun combined with the less than lackadaisical pace Theo insisted they maintain meant it was warm enough to remove her hoodie.

Draco, ever the gentleman, offered to hold it as they rounded the last leg of the trail, draping it over his shoulder. He held Theo's hand, their fingers laced like old lovers on a Saturday stroll, though their discussion would certainly give away the three of them being together.

They'd discussed future plans for dates, sleepovers, and dinners at the Potters—with E.M. like some weird little family—and despite her reluctance to get out of bed, Hermione was finding she actually _enjoyed_ this trail walk.

Though, she would never actually admit it.

God no.

"Okay. One of you needs to explain." Hermione laughed, hands adjusting the elastic band that held her curls.

A look was exchanged between the men, silent, but knowing. They seemed to communicate on a wave length Hermione was not yet privy to, though she was trying to learn.

"If you must." Draco rolled his hand in a slow gesticulation before him.

Theo leaned in, peppering his boyfriend's cheek with three quick kisses between stifled laughter before his attention returned to her. "Okay, so he's Royal, right?"

"I am painfully aware."

"Well, in school the lads had taken to calling him My Lord—"

"Which had _absolutely_ nothing to do with you," Draco grumbled.

"I _might_ have encouraged it, yes. But regardless, it was a nickname… of sorts. Well, It stuck and when Eli was around two he kind of latched on to it." Theo's smile widened, dark green eyes sparkling. "Except he couldn't say My lord so—"

"I became Mylo. Of course, it might have gone unused, but Ella-Mae found the entire thing rather _charming_ and encouraged it… liberally." Draco's eyes rolled skyward, yet despite his display of annoyance over the adorable origin of his nickname, Hermione could tell it was purely for show.

Knowing what she did about him, she would've put money on him actually enjoying it. He wasn't daddy, or papa, or father, but Mylo? That was clearly meant to be his moniker.

"Which kind of works if you think about it. Dada, Mylo, and Minnie." Theo mused, playfully tapping his cleft chin. "I'd say it was almost as if it were fa—"

"Ahh! Nope!" Hermione lifted her hand to cut him off and double stepped to get ahead of her men, turning and walking backward. "Don't you dare finish that sentence. You know that kind of talk is banned."

"That kind of talk?" Draco's brow furrowed as he looked between her and Theo, wrinkles creasing his forehead.

"Granger thinks it's bad luck to use the 'f' word."

"Fuck?"

Hermione paused, the pebbles shuffling beneath her sneakers as she cocked her head to the side. "You think I have a problem with the word fuck?" A laugh bubbled up her throat before she could prevent it from being born, and she shook her head. "No. No, not fuck."

"Fate," Theo supplied, his hand slipping free of their boyfriend's. He gestured toward Hermione when she gave a full body shudder.

"_Ugh_, please don't ruin a halfway decent morning with that word." It wasn't that she hated fate, but she believed it to be an entire crock of shit. Because if there was _something_ responsible for her happiness, then there was something responsible for her heartache as well—_something_ responsible for her parents dying.

Logically, she knew it was stupid. Striking a line through things like fate, serendipity, and kismet for the rest of her existence was absolutely absurd, but she couldn't pretend like it didn't bother her.

Because _if_ by some small chance fate actually existed… then there was potentially a _reason_ her parents perished in that car crash while she lived. And, frankly, that was a thought she couldn't stomach.

Draco nodded slowly, a tactic she'd used more than once with Eli when he was ranting and raving about one of those cartoon shows she knew absolutely nothing about but needed to appear engaged. The smile on his lips wasn't false per se, but it was plastered on as he leaned over to Theo. "Is she being serious right now?"

"Unfortunately." Theo's hand was at the back of his neck, fingers ruffling through the cropped locks. "It's just one of her many quirks, I'm afraid."

"Like the coffee over tea thing?"

"Mhm."

"And biting her nails?"

"Yep."

"And—"

"Oookay!" Hermione cut them off, eyes widening as she clapped her hands. "That's enough of that. Thank you for pointing out my numerous flaws. It always warms my little black heart to know you've noticed."

"Not a problem, darling," Draco crooned after her with a chuckle as she spun around and began back down the path. The sooner they made it back to the parking lot, the sooner she could get home and peel these leggings off.

"Keep it up, _My Lord_ and you'll be spending that twelve hour plane ride entertaining yourself." Hermione shot a playful look over her shoulder, mouth pulled to the side in a coy smirk.

She expected Draco to play back.

She expected Theo to join in.

What she absolutely did not expect was the look of pure horror that fell over the blond's face or for Theo's long gait to slow to a crawl.

"Plane ride?" Theo's brow set, lips pulling down in the slightest hint of a frown. Confusion swirled in his eyes, clouding the beautiful green.

"Yeah… you know? When we go back to London in November." Surely Draco had told Theo… right? Though they had not explicitly discussed it, she'd assumed the invitation she'd received was also open to the third member of their relationship.

After all, it was technically Theo's home county, and he still had family back there. Draco would have absolutely invited him along…

Wouldn't he?

"London. As in…" Theo shook his head, unable to finish his sentence. His hands slipped into his pockets, fidgeting with whatever lay inside as he took a decisive step away from Draco. "As in home?"

"Yes. I… uh—I invited Hermione to join me for a stay when I go back." Draco's adam's apple ran the length of his throat, gray eyes steeling. That mask she'd heard Theo complain about so often fell into place, concealing every hint of emotion. "She's going to accompany me to Father's birthday—"

"You're introducing her to your mum and dad?" Theo's head snapped up, eyes wide and that once happy facade was gone, eviscerated by what she could only imagine was years of frustration. "Are you _fucking _kidding me?"

Suddenly, the assumption she'd made about Theo receiving an invitation felt like a colossal error on her part.

Because of course Draco wouldn't have extended the invitation. Of _fucking_ course. She'd heard about their past relationship woes well before she'd humored the idea of dating them both. At one point (or perhaps several) she'd told Theo to leave Draco. To find someone who appreciated and valued him. To find a partner who wasn't ashamed of what they were. Someone who was _proud _of their relationship.

Memories of those stories crossed her mind when she'd begun to date them, but they seemed so contrary to the man she'd come to know. Draco wasn't guarded or ashamed. Sure, he wasn't a fan of public displays of affection, but technically, he had a very valid reason. Behind closed doors, he was kind, affectionate, and _so _in love with Theo.

But now?

Now, Hermione saw the hurt first hand. She began to scratch the surface that was years of turmoil over something she might never truly grasp, and while that was bad enough within itself, the fact that she unknowingly had a part in hurting a man she cared for so deeply was a punch to the gut.

"Theodore it's not—"

"No! No, don't you dare say that." Theo's body was practically vibrating as he took deliberate steps away from Draco. "You're unbelievable."

"Theo…" Hermione's voice cracked, eyes softening and she took a half step toward him, her hand outstretched. "I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation." She hardly believed the words that slipped off her tongue, but she had to try—to put on a brave face because despite the growing list of evidence that pointed to it being the case, she _had _to believe Draco wouldn't knowingly hurt Theo. "Right, Draco?"

Draco's eyes fell to his shoes and his lips thinned. If it was possible for guilt to be physically personified, it would have borne Draco's exact composure in that moment.

For the first time since this all began, Hermione's heart began to break.

This was her fear: coming between them, ruining what they shared by just being a third in a relationship that clearly still had many kinks to work out.

Her mouth ran dry, eyes welling with unshed tears as a heavy, ominous silence stretched between them.

"Draco?" Unbidden sadness plagued her voice. "Draco, tell him."

In her periphery, Theo looked on expectantly, that anger that had burst to life was now simmering, revealing the hurt—the _pain_—this betrayal left behind. A fresh wound to an already scar-riddled body. She could practically see Theo's walls crumble.

Draco looked up, chewing on his bottom up as he glanced between the two before he lifted his shoulders in a shrug and tilted his palms skyward. "I… I don't know what you want me to say. Theodore knows my parents and… and there's no way I could—"

"Fuck you!" Theo cut him off, and though the curse was delivered with enough force to leave her breathless, the tears that began leaking down his cheeks is what really took her breath away. "Fifteen years, Draco! Fifteen fucking years… I've waited for you to be ready for me—to not be ashamed of us and… and you won't."

"I _cannot_!"

"No. No that's not it at all, is it? You _will not_. There is a very distinct difference and I… I can't do this anymore. I can't pretend like it doesn't fucking hurt!" He swiped the tears off his cheeks angrily. "I… I need to go. I have to pick up Eli later and—"

"Theo, wait." Hermione stepped forward, stomach turning in knots.

He couldn't leave! Not yet.

They needed to figure this out.

They needed to work through whatever this was and find some reasonable resolution.

They needed—

"No." Theo matched her pace, keeping the distance between them, as if afraid even allowing her one inch closer would harm him. He hesitated a second step, his large body fraught with unexpelled emotion. For a singular moment, she thought he might give in to her request, but before she could so much as let another syllable slip from her tongue, his back was to them both and he was moving down the path.

Each step felt like a knife wound, twisting deeper and deeper into her heart, and soon those tears that had collected in her lower lashes fell free, sliding down her cheeks and dripping off her chin.

Draco had put her in an unfair position, and while she wanted to be upset with him for his carelessness, she couldn't. Not when her mind and her heart was so preoccupied with wanting to make sure Theo was okay.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

hi. don't hate me. i adore you all.

until next time. xx


	22. Chapter 22

Space is hard.

Growing up an only child, she was used to being by herself, but this type of solitude felt different. It was overwhelming, like the entire world was too big and too small at the same time. Nothing made sense.

The fight stuck with her, plaguing her thoughts at every spare moment, and she couldn't help but wonder just how Theo was handling this. According to Draco, he had been radio silent since the fight, and all Hermione had managed to get was an _'I'm alive'_ text two days prior.

He was an adult. A grown man. He was completely and entirely capable of taking care of himself. Rationally, she _knew_ this, but nothing about this situation seemed rational anymore.

She was dating two men—one of whom was a distant member of the Royal family, and had witnessed what she'd hoped was not their falling out.

Perhaps that was that guilt that drove her to turn up at his house unannounced.

Or maybe it was that she missed him.

Possibly a bit of both.

Whatever the reason, Hermione found herself lounging on Theo's porch on a Thursday evening, listening to the distant sound of rush hour traffic as she waited for him to return home.

Her pencil skirt bunched around her thighs, bare feet swaying to a tune stuck in her head as she reclined back on his porch steps. Her thumb slid across her iPhone screen as she scrolled through Facebook, alternating between stalking old acquaintances and texting Draco.

_Did he show up?_

He was nearly as anxious as she was, though for an entirely different reason. Draco had attempted to do the same two nights earlier, arriving on Theo's porch with an expensive bottle of wine and a bouquet of sunflowers (Theo's favorite flower, apparently). He was prepared to apologize and grovel for forgiveness. He was not, however, prepared for Theo to not so much as look in his direction before disappearing inside.

Draco had waited for two hours before finally giving up and returning to the hotel he'd booked down the road.

**Not yet.**

_Are you safe? Do you need me to come wait? _

_I don't mind._

Her teeth sank into her bottom lip, thumb hovering over her keys as she debated how to delicately decline his offer. It wasn't that she wouldn't have minded his company, in fact, it likely would have made the wait more bearable, but she knew he shouldn't be here when Theo arrived.

If she had any chance of finally talking to Theo—and hopefully talking_ with_ him about what happened—Draco needed to be far away.

**I'm fine. **

**I know this isn't some fancy palace, but I assure you, Theo's neighborhood is safe.**

She wasn't going to mention how her own neighborhood's crime rate compared because she was fairly certain, if Draco read the statistics, he would demand she never return.

Shifting on the stairs, she set her phone beside her before leaning forward, stretching her spine as she reached for her toes, and letting the slow pull of her muscles ease the discomfort that had settled in. She could feel the vibration of returned texts, and just as she leaned back once more, elbows sinking into the wooden steps to hold her aloft, the familiar purr of Theo's Audi echoed down his street.

She didn't bother reading Draco's reply; instead she fired off a hasty '**He's here'** before she turned off her screen.

Toeing her discarded flats on, she rose from the steps, hands smoothing as many wrinkles from her skirt as possible as she watched him creep into his driveway.

Even through his dark shades, she could see the distinct look of surprise. His jaw was a little slack, brows lifting just slightly over the rims of his sunnies. She followed the Audi, lingering just behind the bumper as he rolled into the garage, the engine's rumble echoing in the confined space.

Her fingers twisted together in front of her, teeth gnawing on her bottom lip as she watched the red glow of the taillight cut off and the engine's purr subside. She wasn't afraid of how he'd react to her turning up. Nervous? Absolutely. But fear was certainly not in the mix.

She was worried about him, concerned this fight might actually be the final straw that ended his relationship and she wanted to talk to him about it. She wanted to try and reason with him—address his concerns, validate them, and work toward bringing her men back together.

This was something she did for a fucking living. Handling painful, awkward, and downright bothersome conversations was second nature. But feeling like the outcome of this situation might result in Theo and Draco ending a relationship that had lasted over a decade if she fucked it up, well... that was something that twisted her stomach into knots.

The car door opened and his long body unfolded from the luxury vehicle. Crisp tweed trousers, a cream button down, and a vest with a tie. Her mind instantly ran amok, delightful images of how she wanted to take her time undressing him from his three-piece roved through her mind like a wayward teenager and she had to mentally slap herself back into submission.

She had a reason for being here.

A fucking purpose!

One she couldn't forget, even if he did look absolutely delectable.

"Hi." She breathed her greeting, lips curling in a soft smile.

Theo reached up, pushing his sunnies to the top of his head before his hand smoothed across his jaw, fingers stroking through his five o'clock shadow as he looked her up and down. After two years, she'd grown accustomed to being able to read the emotion in his eyes. Her Theo-Meter was usually pretty spot on, but for the first time, she couldn't tell what the hell he was thinking.

"Hello." His dark green eyes flickered up to lock on hers. "What are you doing here?"

The question shouldn't have felt like a gut punch—it should have been expected—but the way in which he said it, like he couldn't fathom she'd turn up at his doorstep, hurt. She wilted, like week-old wild flowers, before she gulped down the stone in her throat and forced her smile wider.

"Just wanted to check on you. I hadn't heard—"

"I've been busy."

"I know."

They stood motionless, letting the tension that stretched between them fill the painful silence. She wanted nothing more than to close the distance between them, and wrap her arms around his thick frame. Only a few feet separated them physically, but it felt like infinitely more with how closed off he appeared.

"Can I come in?" Though she'd worded it like a question, there was really only one answer she was willing to accept tonight.

Theo was broken. He was hurting. He _needed _her.

And she was going to show him that, regardless if he knew it or not.

It was as if she could see the gears churn in his mind, contemplating her question, debating the merits of trying to deny her, and for a singular moment, she wondered how much of a fight she was going to have to put up. But then the tension seemed to dissipate. His jaw relaxed, and the tight grip he'd had on his keys loosened.

"Of course." The car door shut with the plush thunk that only luxury cars afforded, and he moved across the cramped single-car garage towards her.

His arm slipped around her frame, fingers caressing her lower back as he pulled her body into his orbit and his lips found her forehead.

"I'm glad you came."

Her heart soared as she leaned into his embrace, letting herself temporarily get lost in his intoxicating aroma of expensive cologne and stale coffee.

"I've missed you." She tipped her head back, chin resting against his chest, the buttons from his shirt tickling her neck as she smiled up to him.

"Oh?" Theo cocked his brow, the hint of a smirk lifting his lips. The jingle of keys signaled he'd deposited them into his front pocket, and shortly after, his hand was brushing through the side of her hair, the blunt end of his fingertips caressing her scalp as he tucked her hair behind her ears.

"Mhm… quite a bit." Her arms moved around his tapered waist to lock at his spine as she melted into his larger frame. "I might have gotten used to seeing you all the time."

"Ah. So my evil plan worked then."

"Evil plan?"

"Yes. You see, I figured if I forced myself around you enough, you'd grow used to my company and crave it."

"Ohh… like nicotine?"

"Or heroin."

Her brows lifted, lips pulling down to suppress a laugh. "Well then, that explains it." Rising onto the tips of her toes, she let her lips find his in the briefest of kisses. When she slipped from his grasp, her hand trailed along his arm until their fingers tangled. "Come on."

Hermione didn't wait for a reply; she turned and began to tug him through his garage toward the door that led into his house. She knew the route well, after many months of turning up at his place, and didn't even bother to ask for the code to the keypad lock.

She removed her hand from his to punch the keys before the sound of the lock sliding signaled she'd entered it right. Pushing into his house, she heard the familiar creak of the garage door closing as she moved through his laundry room toward his living room.

Her plan was already in motion—getting him to let her in the house was just phase one.

And on the rough outline on her phone, she had four more phases to work through until they reached the touchy 'let's discuss our mutual boyfriend' portion of the night.

But this plan she had? The one she'd spent house agonizing over when she should have been reviewing the new Policy and Procedures she'd asked her telework team to develop?

Well, it appeared Theo's own plans trumped hers.

Just as she began to walk past his sofa toward a favored armchair in the corner, a pair of large hands grabbed a hold of her hips and yanked her backwards.

"_Oh!"_

Her heart raced, feeling his touch morph from gentle to harsh, finding that familiar possession that made her skin tingle. From behind, one arm curled around her waist and his fingers fanned wide across her hips. The other rose, leaving a trail of fire in its wake as he ran it up her belly, between the valley of her breasts, until he reached her throat.

"What have I told you"—his wrist nudged her chin up, elongating her neck as he leaned in and ran the tip of his nose across her jugular—"about wearing these tight skirts around me, Granger?"

Her eyes fluttered closed, the initial fear that he'd reject her now seemed absolutely daft based on the very hard cock currently nestled tight against her ass.

"Uh...n-not to—_ah!_" His teeth nipped at a sensitive spot on her throat, clever tongue lavishing the reddened flesh. "Fuck, Theo."

He chuckled against her skin, fingers flexing around her throat, making it harder to suck in fresh air, but that half-fogged bliss he pulled her into with the simplest tightening of his grip sent a gush of heat to her panties. She was positive he would find it.

"I told you I was going to fuck you in it, Granger." His lips moved back up her throat and brushed across the shell of her ear. "I said I was going to put it around your waist so I could watch that pretty little pussy of yours swallow my cock."

Oh god.

Oh _god._

_Oh god._

"I think that's what you want… isn't it?"

_Yes, Yes, Yes!_

"You want to be stuffed full of my cock, don't you?"

She could only manage a whimper as she nodded, her fingers finding purchase against his forearm. That plan she'd been mentally reviewing moments earlier was gone, replaced by a rabid need to let him have his wicked way with her.

Subconsciously, she knew they shouldn't—they had a lot of big emotions to work through. But sometimes that caveman like hindbrain overpowered logic.

"Bend over the back of the couch." He released his hold, patting her ass with a firm smack.

Hermione practically scrambled to listen, hips pressing into the soft leather as she folded herself over untili just the tips of her toes dangled above the floor. Her hands were stacked under her cheek, body pliant and ready for his touch, as the need to please him intensified with each passing second.

The tink of his belt as it loosened, and drag from his zipper being lowered made her heart skip a beat. Despite the crisp autumn air, she could feel a light layer of sweat already clinging to her skin.

"What a good girl." His voice was syrupy and low, but the sharp click of his dress shoes against his floor made it almost erotic as he drew near. His hands were merciless as he yanked up her skirt. The sound of thread snapping that might have once caused her to protest, now set her blood to a boil.

Theo _needed _this.

He needed to control the situation.

He needed to be in charge.

And _she_ needed him to feel whole.

Her hips rocked against the couch, lifting on her toes to allow him to push her bunched skirt higher around her middle before he yanked her underwear down her thighs. One palm cupped each ass cheek, kneading her flesh with a rough grasp, before he parted her folds with his thumbs. Though she didn't have a view of it herself, she could feel moisture drip down her thighs.

"My, my, my. What a naughty little thing, you are." His grip adjusted, and she could feel him part her wider with one hand as the other stroked across her exposed slit. "Already so wet for me."

"_Fucking Christ._" She turned to bite her wrist, unrestrained moans working up her throat as her hips rocked back against his exploring fingers.

He clicked his tongue, the condescending tsk timed with three quick slaps of his fingers against her cunt that did more for her pleasure than pain. "Now, now, you know my name. Don't you, Granger?"

Knew his name? She'd fucking sing it in a church choir if he wanted. She'd have it painted on billboards and graffitied under overpasses. She'd—

With no preamble, two thick fingers filled her aching cunt, curling and twisting to press against her inner walls and her world fogged over. "Theo, _yes!"_ Behind her, she could hear the rhythmic tinkle of his belt as he touched himself.

"That's it… let me stretch out this perfect little pussy," he murmured through heavy breath, fingers sliding inside her, filling her in quick, rough twists that added fuel to the inferno of her desire. Her nails scratched against his couch, nicking the leather as she clung to his sofa, trying to find purchase so she could rock back into his hand, but just as quickly as he'd begun, his fingers slipped from her.

Her mind sizzled, snapping with need like rogue fireworks on the Fourth of July.

Why would he stop?

Wasn't he going to finish?

The questions, already poised on the tip of her tongue, needn't be born though. In the next second, she felt the hot brush of his cock at her sodden entrance. Her body trembled, calves burning from use as she arched her lower back, trying to poise herself perfectly for his entry.

"Just a bit higher..._ahh!_ That's it." His hands curled around her skirt, using the ruined fabric as leverage to hoist her hips up as he slid home, his cock filling her in one fluid push. _"Good girl."_

Her breath caught in her throat as he bottomed out, slamming against her walls with an urgency she'd come to crave. Her body stretched to accommodate his girth. The pain-pleasure of this position was not one they'd tried recently, and she was reminded of that when he stole her breath with the next rough thrust of the reason..

"Fuck hell, Granger." He yanked up harder on her skirt until her toes no longer touched the ground, his hips snapping with abandon as Theo lost himself in whatever pleasure-induced healing that needed to happen.

Hermione could only cling to the couch, lost between bliss and pain, the maelstrom of senses heightened her push towards release.

Her body trembled, thighs quaking and spine arching, as she felt the precipice of her demise rapidly approaching. She couldn't even so much as give a warning as he drove her closer every time his cock filled her to the brim.

Distantly, she could hear his filthy praise, murmurs of his appreciation for her body egging them both on, but soon the wicked words faded under the heavy thump of her heartbeat.

And then it happened.

That snap of tension low in her stomach.

That mind-numbing oblivion.

She didn't know up from down.

She wasn't even certain she could form words or do much of anything beyond allow herself to be consumed by the sensation.

She tried to hold on, to grip the couch cushions turned life preservers as her body shuddered with drudging waves of her climax, but hope seemed lost as he continued to drive into her, filling her over and over_ and over_ again until her throat rasped, raw from the cries that filled the room.

And just when she'd thought he might keep her in this blissed out state for forever, the thick pulse of his own climax deep inside her body made her shudder.

A snarl of completion was followed by a deep rock of his hips, and he held himself deep inside of her as his seed coated her walls. Had she not been on the pill, this would have been one of those times she might have been concerned—hell, even in the half-fog of her come down, she debated cracking open the Plan B in her cupboard just in case.

He stayed inside her until his cock stopped throbbing, and only then did he lower her back down to the couch. The once demanding and firm touch gentle and tame as he gathered her against his chest.

Firm lips caressed her brow, praising her with the gentle touch. "So good… so bloody good," he murmured into her skin like a prayer, pressing kisses on both of her eyelids before he moved down her jaw.

Her arms looped around his neck, fingers sliding through his thick hair as she lavished in his attention, her abused core still throbbing.

"Stay the night… please stay, Hermione," he whispered against her neck. His fingers curled into her shirt and he pulled her close, as if afraid she might actually disappear if he let her go.

These cracks—no, fissures—in his demeanor showed signs of trauma. Theo wasn't closing himself off to be an asshole.

No.

_He was scared. _

He was that terrified fifteen-year-old boy, afraid that his sexuality made him unlovable. He was that nineteen-year-old who didn't understand how he could possibly love more than one person. He was that twenty-five-year-old telling his long distance boyfriend he'd accidentally gotten his latest fling pregnant.

He was broken—just as badly as she was.

And Hermione knew, now more than ever before, that her place in their relationship wasn't to come between Draco and Theo.

She needed to be the one to unite them.

_She_ was going to be the glue that held them all together.

"Of course…" She cracked open her eyes, hand finding his cheek, guiding his face back enough so she could look him in the eye. She could see the pain he'd been trying so fucking hard to mask—a pain she knew tragically well. She needed to fix the three of them. To make this right. But first? First, she needed to show Theo he was never going to have to fight this battle alone. "I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

"How can you watch this drivel?" Theo managed around a mouthful of Ben & Jerry's, spoon bobbing with each word as he cocked a brow at the television screen.

Since their living room romp, the pair had only managed to relocate to his bedroom, though no more sex had occured—not that she would have complained. God no, but this wasn't about getting off. This was about helping her boyfriend.

So, instead of foreplay, Hermione did what she does best.

She DoorDashed ice cream and candy from 7-Eleven and a pizza from Round Table. She was here for the long haul with him this evening, which meant reinforcements in the way of unhealthy food and copious amounts of mind-numbing television were on the menu.

"Because while she is fucking annoying, Darcy is entertaining." Hermione dug into their shared pint of Chunky Monkey. "And girlfriend knows precisely what she wants, which I commend."

"Well, what she needs is a better plastic surgeon," Theo murmured as he went for another spoonful, his thick frame pressing against hers. He'd changed into a pair of joggers, the suit from earlier already neatly tucked away in his dry clean only bag.

This casual intimacy was what she'd longed for—finding a man she could actually be herself with. For years she'd feigned enjoying salads and trying to be this sweet little fae-like creature, but she never had to pretend with Theo.

She could eat pizza and ice cream in front of him. They could war over the last breadstick and whether Maltesers were _really_ that different from Whoppers. She could even burp without shame if she felt so inclined—but farting was still strictly off limits.

This was precisely what she had longed for, which is why she wanted to help. Or rather, _try_ and help.

Before she was his girlfriend, she was Theo's fuck-buddy therapist. She'd listened to him talk about his significant other on particularly bad days and offered advice. She was impartial back then, and though now she absolutely, without a doubt had ulterior motives (i.e. making sure her boys stayed together), it didn't stop her from not wanting to try.

Sliding the nearly finished pint into his lap, Hermione licked her spoon clean before setting it on the plate of pizza crust on the nightstand closest to her side of the bed. The night was winding down with the clock just ticking into double digit territory, and she knew that if she didn't act fast, they'd both end up asleep before long.

With that in mind, she grabbed the remote from between their thighs and hit the power button, which managed to earn a confused look from the prone Theo beside her.

Shifting on the bed, Hermione moved to sit on her heels, the boxers she'd nicked from his drawer digging into her thighs. "I think we should talk." Her fingers twisted the hem of his borrowed undershirt, body primed and ready to fight for him should he feel the need to flee.

Theo knew—she knew he knew. If the crestfallen dim of his eyes wasn't clear enough, the way he suddenly grew very interested in scraping the bottom of the pint of ice cream was.

"Oh? What about?" He didn't even bother to glance up as he took another bite.

"Theo."

_Scrape… scrape… scrape…_

"Theodore."

_Scrape… scrape… scrape…_

"If you don't look at me, so help me God I am—"

"Okay, okay, okay! Fine." He tucked the pint between his legs, huffing as he looked over at her. His jaw was tight, mouth moving around words he hadn't spoken aloud as she gave him an imploring look. She knew this wasn't going to be easy—hell, she never expected that—but for him to be so… _childish_ about even beginning this discussion was certainly not what she'd hoped.

"Do we have to?" he questioned after a moment, hands coming to rest behind his head, elbows splayed wide. "Can't we just pretend like it never happened and forget about it?"

"I'm afraid not." She reached out, taking the pint from between his thighs and she leaned to set it on the nightstand behind her. "I just… want to make sure we're okay."

Theo closed his eyes, tongue sweeping across his lips as he took a heavy breath. "Granger, _we're_ fine. I'm not angry with you for accepting his invitation… I'm just—"

His voice warbled, and he cleared his throat in some attempt to pull himself together. His face scrunched up, eyes shutting tight as he fought for control over his wayward emotions. Reaching out, Hermione let her hand rest on his bicep, thumb stroking across the smooth skin.

"Theo, it's okay. You don't have to explain. I get it." She didn't need some heartfelt spiel about how painful it was to be excluded—especially from someone he loved. She wasn't stupid, she understood. The truth was, she wasn't even sure if _she _could take that deceit.

And seeing this man, one she'd come to care for so deeply, be brought to tears over it—well, it made her throat tighten.

"I can't… I can't keep making excuses for him." His bottom lip quivered, the cadence of his words drawn out. "We've been together for half our lives. I know him—I know everything there is to know about him, and I just… I just can't keep waiting around for him to realise our love isn't something to be ashamed of."

"Theo, I don't think he meant to hurt you by inviting me."

"I don't think he did either, but that's part of the problem. He's used to me forgiving him for being careless. He's used to me accepting that we have to stay secret and… and I'm just not sure I can do that anymore, Granger." His eyes cracked open, sparkling with unshed tears as he looked up at the ceiling in some meek attempt at preventing them from falling, but it was a losing battle.

The tears clung to his five o'clock shadow, staining his cheeks with evidence of his sorrow. "Santa Cruz was… the first time in a long time I've got to be _with_ him publicly, and it was nice. And being with you, seeing how real relationships work—it's just… that isn't working for me anymore. I have more to think about now. I _want _more. I _want _to be public. I _want_ to make future plans, but I also want my son to grow up knowing his Mylo isn't hiding him away because of some bigoted traditions."

If her heart wasn't already breaking on his behalf, now it lay in a thousand tiny pieces inside her lungs. She felt her own tears spill from her cheeks, as she watched him move to cover his face, letting loose a deep, guttural sob.

"I love him… so much but I can't. I can't anymore," he managed through his tears, shoulders shaking.

"Oh, Theo." She scooted across the bed and crawled beside him. Trembling hands moved to guide him toward her, until his torso was practically in her lap. Tucking his face in the crook of her neck, she ran her palms across his shoulders like she would Teddy or Eli when consoling them. "I'm so sorry, Theo. I'm _so sorry_."

His arms tightened around her middle, fingers curling into her shirt, holding her like a lifeline as he let loose tears that she suspected he'd bottled up since the incident. He didn't hide from her, didn't try to pretend like he was strong and hold in his sorrow. Instead, he seemed to do the opposite, relying on the strength she was providing him, letting her comfort and soothe him as he finally let go.

She didn't know how she was going to do it, nor when, but she knew her time for fixing this, for making them see how much they loved one another, how much they _all_ needed to be together, was fleeting.

* * *

**author's note:**

/sneaks in one extra chapter in countdown.

HIiiii. I'm not sure what to put here. Sorry i've been absolute trash as responding to reviews. I'll work on that (amongst the numerous other faults I have). massive shouty **bolded** underlined thanks to dreamsofdramione for being the best beta in the world, and lumoslyra for alphaing the shit out of this. ya'll don't even know the amount of work and dedication they've put into this story. Go check out their works, they're both fabulous writers!

you can find me on facebook under msmerlin eff. friend me, ask me questions, or just slide into my dm's to talk!

until next time. xx


	23. Chapter 23

Sleeping. Eating. Fucking.

Those three primal instincts had ruled Hermione's life for the last two days. Theo had successfully convinced her to play hooky with him—not that it'd taken much convincing—and they'd done literally nothing.

Fuck, eat, sleep, repeat.

By all accounts, it should have been amazing.

_This_ was the exact type of stay-cation Hermione had dreamed of. But even through the throes of passion, when Theo used her body to meet some base need, something was missing.

She couldn't explain it, but her body longed for another set of hands to roam her skin. Her back felt terribly cold at night, and even her feet longed for a lap to claim when she snuggled on the couch.

It seemed that during the short few weeks navigating her introduction to the Poly lifestyle, Theo and Draco's presence had been permanently cemented in her heart.

She tried to ignore the pull and just be there for Theo, scarcely texting Draco updates to calm his worries, while attempting to tentatively broach the subject of when Theo might humor the idea of actually talking to Draco again.

But forty-eight hours was a long time.

And, frankly, it was getting hard to sit down without wincing. If her body had any chance of getting a break to heal, she knew what she needed to do.

Get her men back together.

It was simple, in theory. She'd planned it all in the shower earlier that morning after she'd kicked Theo out post-orgasm so she could _actually_ clean up.

But now that it was in motion, and Draco was on Theo's couch whilst they waited for Theo to return with the sushi she'd sent him to pick up after _'accidentally selecting pick-up instead of delivery,'_ it felt rather… stupid.

She hadn't lied. Technically, this was good for them. But now that she'd taken a moment to pause and reflect, it felt like a bit of an ambush.

She rubbed her hands against her thighs, hoping the faded black leggings she'd found stuffed in her trunk would pull some of the sweat from her palms.

Draco was sitting beside her, dark wash jeans tight across his thighs. He looked as posh as ever—always ready for the chance photograph. Just the hint of a gray collared shirt peeked from beneath the collar of a forest green sweater. Effortlessly charming—the asshole.

"You okay?"

_Was she alright?_

_Sure. Yeah. Perfectly fine._

She was moments away from having her two boyfriends confront one another over something so fucking deeply emotional she teared up just _thinking _about the positions they were in.

Because truly, there was no clear 'wronged' party here. Theo's feelings of betrayal were justified, and Draco's fear was absolutely understandable.

This was the literal definition of being stuck between a rock and a hard place, and frankly, it made her sick to her stomach the longer she thought about it.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Yup."

"You don't look okay."

Her hackles rose, the instinctual need to use sarcasm as a defense mechanism pulled to the surface. She lifted her eyes from where she'd been burning holes in the floor and shifted to face Draco. "Gee, how kind of you to point out."

It had taken years to perfect. Many heartbreaks, crushing disappointments, and tears all allowed her to build the wall that secured her heart as her own, and for the first time in a _very_ long time, she'd allowed someone in—or in this case, two someones.

Sure, Harry, Ginny, and Teddy broke through, but this was different.

Yes, she loved them, but she wasn't _in love_ with them.

Not that she was with Draco, nor Theo yet! God no, but the potential… Well, the potential was there. And she couldn't help but hope she hadn't set this whole thing up for failure because she wanted it to work so fucking badly. They did make her happy, and she assumed they felt the same, but it was the nefarius '_them'_ making each other happy that seemed a tad problematic.

She had to give Draco credit, he didn't so much as react to her snark. Instead, he nodded, and his gray eyes appeared to soften as if he could feel her unspoken unease. Reaching out, he let his hand rest beside hers, fingertips brushing along the side of her palm.

"It'll be okay… this isn't the first time we've fought, Hermione."

That was precisely the problem though, wasn't it? And the fact Draco couldn't (or perhaps wouldn't) see it as such—well… that gnawing feeling that this was absolutely going to blow up in her face was growing so large it might have swallowed up those butterflies that normally filled her chest cavity around her boyfriends.

"Draco, I'm not—"

She would never get to finish her warning or return the tender touch, because it was at that exact moment the laundry room door swung open, and heavy footsteps echoed through the kitchen.

"Sorry it took so long. Blood hostess couldn't read her own writing." The sound of the keys hitting the kitchen island was quickly followed by the soft squeak of styrofoam containers being pulled from a plastic bag.

Those plans she had—the same ones that felt like they were built on a bed of matchsticks—disintegrated into ash as she listened to Theo draw near. All she was capable of doing was sitting wide-eyed on the couch like some sort of deer in headlights, helpless to the fear that took hold.

She was an adult (sometimes this was debatable), and her fucking job was to manage tense situations—amongst other important things like hiring, terminating, and dealing with their legal team. All of which should have prepared her for high-stress situations. She shouldn't freeze up like this!

She'd never had skin in the game before, though. Sure, her job could be on the line, but that was replaceable. Her heart, on the other hand, was not.

Her world moved in slow motion, like a poorly recorded VHS, as she watched Theo collect their meal, thick auburn hair drafting across his brow, hiding his beautiful eyes. He stacked the containers on top of one another, making sure to tuck the chopsticks in before he collected their meal. "Did you want to eat in the—"

His words died in the air between them as he looked up. Judging by the way his mouth dropped open and the color ran from his cheeks, Hermione didn't need to guess his feelings about her _surprise._

"Hi, Theodore." Draco's ability to find his voice was fucking impressive, considering Hermione couldn't exactly remember how to make her vocal cords function. He rose from the couch, hands smoothing his sweater across his abdomen. "Can I hel—"

"What is he doing here?" Theo didn't even cast a second glance at their boyfriend, instead turning the full-force of his gaze on Hermione. She could see tension ripple through him—the thick muscle on his jaw flexed, and his shoulders stiffened.

Hermione bit her bottom lip, finger running along the shoddy seam in her leggings at her thigh. This was okay. She could do this. She was a strong, resilient capable woman.

"I was thinking that… uh… maybe we can all have a chat?"

Theo nodded, his tongue pressing against his cheek, and though she couldn't read minds (despite what she'd told Teddy and Eli), she knew damn well Theo was likely plotting her demise in his head.

If she were in his shoes, she wouldn't blame him.

But she also knew, if he were in hers, he'd likely do the same.

"What if _I'm_ not ready?"

"Oh Christ, Theodore, seriously?" Draco clicked his tongue, and let out a sharp breath as he shook his head. "Can't we be adults about this?"

"Draco!" Hermione frowned.

"I don't know, Draco. _Can_ we?"

_Oh fuck._

_This was already off to a great start._

Clapping her hands to get their attention, Hermione pushed up from the couch and pointed toward the cushion to her right.

"Theo, sit." She didn't bother to wait for him to finish before she gestured to the cushion to her left. "Draco, sit."

Turning around, Hermione edged back until she felt the coffee table press against the back of her legs and she lowered herself down. A cushion divided the two men as they each settled into their designated spots. She took the styrofoam containers from Theo and set them beside her.

"Okay… before we begin, I have something I'd like to say." Hermione rubbed her hands together. Nervous energy begged for release as she prepared to spill her soul to the two men before her. "But I need you both to _just _listen. Okay?"

Theo gave a stiff nod, his hand curled around his jaw as he leaned on the arm of the couch, positioning himself as far away from Draco as possible.

"Of course, love." Draco seemed to be taking the opposite approach to Theo's standoffish demeanor. Under normal circumstances, she might have found his antics endearing, but now? Now it felt as if he were putting in the extra effort to drive their boyfriend mad.

"I am not going to sit here and pretend to know every single detail of your relationship. It would be naive of me to think I could become intimately acquainted with your shared history over the past several weeks, but there is one thing I _can_ say with absolute certainty." Leaning forward in a non-threatening gesture she'd perfected over her career, she looked back and forth between them both. "You two love one another."

Theo shifted, resting his ankle against his opposite thigh. "My love for Draco has absolutely not bearing on—"

"Theo, _please_." Hermione lifted her hand to silence him. "Just listen."

He shifted again, spine twisting as he leaned farther back into the arm of the couch with a small sigh.

"You two have been together for over fifteen years, romantically speaking, and friends for much longer. I just… I don't want to see something that's lasted nearly two decades thrown away simply because neither of you could just fucking _talk_ to one another. I… I just...Don't either of you realize how lucky you are?"

It was Draco's turn to bear the cross of confusion. His brow set as his eyes lifted to find hers. "Lucky?"

"Yes. You had each other. This whole fucking time! I would have given _anything_ to have someone there for me when I was younger—friend or boyfriend. After my mom and dad… after the uh—the crash I was so fucking lost and… and I didn't have—" Her voice cracked, and Hermione had to pause, taking slow and steady breaths to calm the rising tide of long-suppressed emotions that threatened to overwhelm her.

She needed to stay on track.

She needed to focus.

This wasn't about her and her fucked up childhood. This wasn't about her abandonment issues, nor her commitment woes. This was about _them_—about the two men who had weaseled their way into the depths of her heart, despite it being so black and bitter after all these years.

"I didn't have anyone. I didn't even know what real friendship was until I met Harry and I was a fucking adult already." A watery laugh bubbled up her throat, and she felt the burn of hot tears slip free from the prison of her lower lid and rush down her cheek.

A shaky hand rose, and she hastily brushed the shameful wetness away from her flushed skin as she looked down at her lap. She had to ignore the way Theo whispered her name and Draco reached for her hand.

"Look, we can… we can spend as much time as you want unpacking my shit, but in order to do that, we need to fix what's going on between you two first. I'm sorry, but I can't just sit by and watch you throw it away over miscommunication and—"

"This is more than miscommunication." Theo's eyes softened on her, and despite the evident need to comfort her, there was also a sadness that drove that wedge deeper in her heart.

She knew there was truth in his words, she'd known it since that morning, but whether it was naivety or hope, Hermione had allowed herself to cling to this notion that Draco could justify his error—that he could provide some logical explanation. "But you didn't even give him a chance to fix it."

"Hermione, I'm not sure it can be fixed." Theo rarely spoke her given name, and his choice to use it now only added a level of gravity to the situation that left her reeling.

It seemed that she wasn't the only one blown back by the admission. Draco's apathetic mask fell, the mask he'd spent years perfecting in his silver-spooned upbringing broke. It shattered into a thousand tiny pieces like shards of a mirror, and within his eyes, she saw the real Draco. The one he kept hidden from the world.

He wasn't Prince Draco, Duke of Gloucester.

He wasn't calm, cool, or collected.

He was broken—just like the rest of them. He was vulnerable, scared, and possessed the same demons that had made a home in her head for so many years.

"What exactly are you saying, Theodore?" Draco's voice wavered, and his Adam's apple traveled the length of his throat with an audible gulp.

Hermione wasn't exactly sure what Draco expected—hell, she wasn't even sure what _she_ expected to come from this—but Theo's response, or rather, lack thereof, was clearly not it.

Silence lingered between the three of them, tension as thick as the late summer fog that plagued the city. She didn't need Theo to say it aloud—to give life to what she'd prayed wasn't coming, because his face said it all.

His lips turned down with a well-practiced ease as he looked away from Draco to examine his cuticles. A familiar sadness shaded his eyes, like it had made its home there long ago as Theo fought back the brewing tears with slow and steady breaths.

Each tick from the clock on the mantle was like a knife driving deeper into her chest. The weight of what was unfolding before her felt like too much.

This couldn't be happening.

There was no_ fucking _way.

"Theo, are you—"

"I don't know!" He cut her off quickly, tongue darting over his lips, and as he looked back up, two fat tears left glistening lines down his cheeks. "I… I don't bloody know, okay? I just… I can't keep being a secret."

"Theodore you _know _what kind of pressure I'm under… you _know _that if it were up to me that I'd—"

"But it _is_ up to you, Draco. _You're_ making the choice to… to hide me and Eli. _You're_ making the choice not to allow yourself to be honest about who you art. _You're_ making it fucking impossible for me to stay. I deserve better than a secret fucking relationship after_ fifteen fucking years_."

"It's not that easy!" Draco was perched on the edge of the cushion, his body rigid. The fear that had frozen him solid moments ago was gone, vanished as if it'd never been there to begin with, and now a storm brewed. "You just… You just think I can fucking go home and tell them that I'm—that we're—"

Theo shook his head, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. "You can't even fucking say it. Can you?"

"Jesus Christ." A low growl worked its way up Draco's throat and his hands clenched into fists. "You act like I enjoy this life. Like I am keen to parade around like some bloody show pony for my family. I don't—"

"From where I'm sitting it doesn't look like you object much." Theo scoffed. "Galavanting around the world at a moment's notice. Having zero _real_ responsibilities. Must be real fucking tough to be you, Draco."

It was like watching the stitching of her favorite sweater unravel before her. Years upon years of resentment and pain bubbled to the surface. Each man was defiant, their heels dug in, unwilling to budge as the other poked and prodded to try and convince them of their misdeeds.

The sad truth was, realistically, they were both wrong.

Draco _should_ make an effort.

Theo _should_ understand.

But after fifteen years, it appeared that neither was willing to try and fix the problems they'd grown accustomed to.

Hermione struggled to stay silent and allow them to work through their issues. She held her tongue, desperate to speak up and tell them they were both wrong, that if they could just take a moment to look from the other's point of view they might gain some perspective. But before she could pull herself from the mental jungle gym of trying to unpack fifteen years worth of unspoken resentment in one sitting, it appeared that an abrupt end was reached.

"You know what? _Fuck this._" Draco rose from the couch, his brow furrowed, gray eyes wild. "I don't need this. I get told how much of a fuck up I am from my father, the absolute _last_ thing I need is to hear it from you, too."

"Yeah? Well maybe Lucius has a bloody point." Theo's jaw tensed as he watched Draco begin to cross the room. "You were always a coward. You ran away from your problems when we were kids and you're still fucking doing it. It's high time you grow the hell up, Draco."

"Not fucking helpful Theo!" Hermione fumbled over her feet as she shot up, nearly tripping over the coffee table in her haste to hurry after Draco. She rounded the sofa, heart thumping in time with each footfall.

"Fuck you, Theodore." Draco spun on his heel, eyes aflame with a fire she'd never seen before. The sweet, kind, generous man she'd come to know over the past several weeks was gone; not even a ghost of his visage remained. "How dare you sit there and judge me after what you've put me through!"

"Excuse me?" Theo blinked up at him, large frame twisted to fully face Draco. "What _I _put _you_ through?"

"Do you have any idea what it's like to be on the receiving end of a phone call where the person you love says they're leaving the fucking country? How about getting a fucking _email_ where they explain they got a woman pregnant—someone you didn't even know they were dating, let alone fucking! Do you have _any fucking idea_ what it feels like to watch the love of your life create a family without you? Because I do. Intimately well. So, forgive me for not being ready to upend _my_ fucking life because I am still trying to navigate through my own bloody issues."

Draco's chest heaved, eyes wide and wild as he waited—daring Theo to utter a single word, to provoke him. When only silence followed, he took it at his opportunity to leave.

This time, Hermione didn't chase after him. No, she stayed frozen, feet glued to the floor, physically unable to pry herself from its hold as she watched Draco slip from the townhome. The red front door slammed shut behind him, rattling the windows.

It had been a risk, inviting Draco over without Theo's knowledge, one she clearly shouldn't have taken.

A band tightened around her chest, making it near impossible to breath as the weight of what had just happened settled around her. She might not have been the cause of their end, but clearly her meddling was the catalyst.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

dont hurt me. /slowly backs away

until next time.


	24. Chapter 24

Following what Hermione thought was the fight to end all fights, she had returned to her condo. Theo wasn't exactly thrilled with her decision, but he didn't argue when she'd insisted she needed to go.

She'd needed space—physical and mental—to work through her own feelings regarding what had just occurred.

She'd needed to be on her own, to think about what this meant for her relationship with both men, but move over, she just needed to be alone.

She stayed home the rest of the week, opting to telework from the comfort of her home office. Graciously, Crooks didn't seem to mind sharing the space, and soon found comfort in her lap as she sat in her pajamas while attending virtual meetings.

Theo texted her throughout the day, and called her one his way home. He asked about her day and wanted to know the most trivial details of her job. It was sweet, truly, but she knew he was just avoiding his own sorrow by trying to fill his day with her.

And as for Draco?

Well, she hadn't heard from him.

Not once.

Not that she was reaching out to him either. No, the ball was in his court, and she was waiting for the first contact. He was hurting, and hopefully processing his own feelings.

Though, by the time the week came to a close, and it had officially been four days since the fight, she was beginning to worry.

Not because she didn't trust him to take care of himself—god no—he was a grown man. He was absolutely fine in _that_ regard. It was the silence that made her stomach churn with worry.

Maybe he'd changed his mind and didn't want her anymore.

Maybe he'd realized she was perfectly ordinary and figured he could do better.

Maybe his interest in her was _only_ because of Theo.

Those thoughts, diabolically clever, plagued her mind nearly the entire day while in office. At any quiet moment, the doubt surrounding where she stood with the blond clouded her mind and ruined whatever distraction she'd just busied herself with.

She knew her thoughts weren't healthy—or remotely helpful. Which is precisely why she'd invited herself over to the Potter's for Monday night dinner.

Well, her, Theo, and Eli.

After another weekend apart, she promised Theo that after work on Monday they could spend time together. She knew that little devil sitting on her shoulder telling her she wasn't worthy of Draco's affections was not an excuse he was going to accept for a sudden change of plans.

So, Hermione did what she always found herself doing in times of trouble.

She went to the Potter's—now, of course, with Theo and Eli in tow.

Harry and Ginny never minded the extra company, and Teddy was more than happy to play with Eli while the adults sat on the back patio after dinner to discuss the latest events in her polyamorus relationship.

"He just left?" Harry's long legs extended in front of him, crossed at the ankle as he leaned back in a faded red adirondack chair. His hands were folded over his stomach, elbows pressed into the arms of the chair in a comfortable 'I-might-just-fall-asleep' lean (which, he had before… more than once).

"Yep." Theo was standing at the railing, back to the skyline, as he took a slow sip from the highball of Ranch Water Hermione had mixed up just moments earlier. His button down was halfway untucked, the rumpled tail hanging loose over his crisp trousers. His tie was long forgotten on the back of a dining table chair.

Although he was still dressed for work, Hermione couldn't help but admire the casualness of his current state of undress. It shouldn't have been charming, especially considering the topic at hand, but with the way the sunlight highlighted his hair, it was a wonder she was even paying attention.

"Wow." Harry nodded slowly, green eyes wide as he absorbed the story. Reaching up, he pushed his thick black frames up his nose, a hint of his inky tattoos peeking from beneath his sweater. "Has this happened before?"

"Him ghosting me after a bad row?" Theo's eyes rolled in time with his shoulders, the hand not curled around his glass rubbing against his forehead as if trying to remove tension. "Honestly? I wish I could say no, but this isn't the first time. We once went a month without speaking."

Hermione blinked; her brow slowly pulled down to a furrow as that little nugget of information settled in.

A month? A whole _month?_ As in thirty days?

No. Theo _had _to be exaggerating. Shifting forward on the loveseat glider she and Ginny had commendered earlier, her elbows came to rest against her thighs, fingers curling around her beverage of choice for the evening: a paloma. "I'm sorry I think I misheard you. Did you actually say _a month_?"

"Give or take a day." Theo nodded, blinking as he took a sip before silently toasting to Harry, who swore under his breath. "We were very young, and… Well, frankly, looking back, it was all really daft, but at the time, I'm sure he felt it was warranted."

"And what, pray tell, was this egregious offense?" Ginny's eyes flicked up from her phone, providing the evening's first indication that she'd actually been paying attention to the conversation at hand and not lost in the land of Pinterest and home improvement ideas.

Theo tilted his face toward the fading sky, brow lowering just a smidge and he took another pull from his glass. "Uh… that time? I believe it was when I started applying for Uni and told him I had my heart set on coming to the US."

Well, it didn't seem unreasonable—maybe a tad dramatic, but Hermione could understand the hurt that Draco might have felt at the time. Had she been in a similar position at that age, she could only imagine her reaction.

Hell, who was she kidding? She would have been more than simply upset. Just thinking of Draco returning to London, over _five thousand_ miles away, made her stomach churn. She wasn't ready to do long distance, or try to navigate the complexities of arranging dates via Skype when they would have an eight hour time difference.

And she certainly wasn't prepared to deal with the potential jealousy that might arise once Draco returned home because she would be able to spend time face-to-face with Theo while Draco could only be reached via the internet.

It was unfair.

To know that there was a time limit on the beginning of their relationship, and to know that Draco was wasting these precious moments left by being upset with Theo and vice versa…

Well, it didn't much matter because she didn't feel like she was in a position to voice her frustrations or fears.

While part of her was willing to take the leap into the relationship with both of them, the other part still worried that they'd wake up one day and realize she wasn't as amazing as they'd both seemed to assume.

The other part worried they'd finally see her faults, and give presence to that little voice inside her head that still said she was never going to be good enough for them. And because the end of their triad seemed ineffable, the fact that this was happening… Well, it _almost_ seemed like the beginning of the end for something that had barely just begun. Like a flower's bud rotting before it'd even been given a chance to bloom.

She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, teeth sinking into the supple skin as she let her eyes drift down to her drink. Idly watching the ice cube swirl around the glass, she gently tilted it from left to right.

"Mione?"

Hermione's eyes flicked up and over to Harry. Her breath stopped in her throat when she caught sight of the look in his eye—one she knew all too fucking well. Deep concern was etched in his beautiful emerald eyes, brow furrowed with a heaviness that made it clear he was already trying to formulate a plan to fix whatever he perceived as her problem.

Damn him.

Damn Harry for being so fucking nice.

Damn Theo for having a heart as big as the Pacific Ocean.

Damn Draco for his bigoted family and most of all…

Damn her emotions for getting the better of her.

"You alright?" Harry was already leaning forward, perched on the edge of his chair like some sort of cat ready to pounce.

Hermione nodded and hastily lifted her glass to take a large pull from her drink, letting the bitter burn of the tequila and grapefruit soda quell the unwanted and unreasonable rise of emotions inside her. "Yeah—just thinking."

A thick brow popped over the rims of Harry's glasses, and he didn't have to utter a single word for Hermione to _know_ he didn't believe her. But she also knew Harry wouldn't push it—not right now, at the very least. Now was clearly not the time to pry.

She sat silently with a somber smile, hoping the gentle lift of her lips might ease Harry's concern, even if just for the moment, but before the effectiveness of her half-hearted attempt at placating her best friend could be gauged, her attention was pulled elsewhere.

"_Holy shit_!" Ginny's feet fell off the little side table she'd claimed to elevate her swollen extremities and hit the wooden deck with a loud thump.

"Jesus Christ, Ginn." Hermione nearly jumped off the cushion, head snapping to look at Ginny, who was frantically using her thumb and forefinger to zoom in on her phone screen. "Leave any air for the rest for the rest of us?"

"Holy shit…" Ginny paid no heed to her, instead frantically scrolling through the page with the occasional whispered curse.

Hermione glanced over to Harry and Theo, her shoulders lifting in a slight shrug. "Evidently Candy Crush turns you into a sailor."

Harry nodded. "You have no bloody idea. One night she woke me up because she was screaming about some sort of fizzy drink float robbing her of—"

"Oh, will you two shut it? This isn't about Candy Crush! It's about your bloody boyfriend."

Theo coughed into his drink, droplets of the tequila and mineral water splashed onto his cheeks, before he quickly set his drink down so he could cough into the crook of his arm.

"Draco? As in… Draco-_Draco_?" _As in… her Draco? Or was he Theo's? _She didn't really know the proper protocol in this situation yet.

"How many other fucking Dracos do you really think there are out there?" Ginny deadpanned, brown eyes lifting from her phone to look at Hermione.

"Uh…"

Theo cleared his throat, smoothing his wayward locks back across his head. "Actually, in the early two-thousands—"

"Really, Theo? _That_ is what you want to focus on? Correcting my bloody off handed comment about your boyfriend's obscure name and not the fact that he has just been pictured walking into the British Embassy with—and I quote, what appears to be an excessive amount of luggage and his passport._"_

All at once, it hit her, like she'd fallen from a tree and landed flat on her back. All of the air in her lungs was gone, and though she possessed the ability to breathe, she simply forgot how.

Luggage… passport.

Luggage.

_Passport._

Ginny's mouth continued to move, but Hermione couldn't process it as the two words reverberated in her mind over and over and over again like a broken record of her nightmare.

Draco was…_ leaving._

He was leaving without giving the three of them a fighting chance to figure out how to heal the hurt between Theo and him. But more painful… he was leaving without saying goodbye.

She watched helplessly as Ginny turned the phone toward her, and revealed a posh looking Draco in the Embassy. He was in a bespoke suit—light gray, the cut so perfect that had she seen it under _any_ other circumstances, she might have paused to admire how utterly handsome her boyfriend was.

But now?

Now it felt like another checkbox ticked toward an inevitable conclusion. Memories of laying in Theo's bed between her men flooded back, the playful teasing transpiring between the pair—Theo ribbing Draco about traveling in three-piece suits. Memories of Draco explaining, in that adorably posh irritated tone, that yes, joggers would be much more comfortable, but strict business attire was mandated in case of paparazzi.

Hermione looked away from the phone, her heart thumping so hard against her ribs she was certain Teddy and Eli could march to its beat upstairs; she found Theo equally as flummoxed. His skin was ashen, his eyes wide with what Hermione could only assume was shock—or perhaps fear?

Around them, she could distantly hear Ginny and Harry, though not a word could be deciphered. It was almost as if her and Theo were having an entire conversation through eye contact alone—a steady stream of questions passing between their wide-eyed stares.

_Why would he leave?_

_Why wouldn't he tell them?_

_Was he coming back?_

_What did this mean for her and Draco?_

_What did this mean for Theo and him?_

_What did this mean for the three of them?_

"What do I do?" She was so lost in her spaghetti string thought that she hadn't even realized she'd vocalized the question until she felt a throw pillow hit her side, startling her back into the moment.

Much to her surprise, it was the baritone of her best friend. "Get your arse down there!" Harry shook his head, hands upturned, as if what needed to be done was painfully obvious.

_Could _they just go down there? It wasn't like she'd spent a lot of time at the British Embassy, or _any _Embassy for that matter, though it did sound awfully important and bureaucratic.

Similar to the DMV. Appointments only. Have all your paperwork. Don't waste peoples' time.

Surely showing up to try and stop your kind-of boyfriend—who also happens to be somewhat of a national treasure for the red coats—likely wasn't exactly high on their priority list.

"We can't just go down there." Hermione shook her head, fingers twisting together. "Right?"

"What? Why not?" Ginny tilted her head to the side, strands of pin straight red hair drifting from her topknot to lay across her cheek.

"Uh… don't you need an appointment?"

"Oh, Jesus Christ. For someone who watches romantic comedies, you sure don't seem to understand grand romantic gestures." Harry's fingers slipped beneath his glasses and he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"This isn't a fucking movie, Harry! I can't just show up and—"

"Can you drive?" Theo abandoned his glass on the railing behind him, hands already patting his front pockets in search of his keys. His eyes were glassy, giving way to the gears turning within his mind, formulating a plan that Hermione was not yet privy to.

Hermione gulped, looked between her friends, then back up at Theo who was already moving for the slider. "I'm not drunk—if that's what you're asking." Part of her kind of wished she was though.

"Okay, good." He pulled open the slider, but paused at the entrance, his hand curled tightly around the handle. "Would you mind watch—"

"Yes, yes. We'll watch Eli, just go stop your idiot boyfriend before he makes a huge mistake." Ginny waved him off before she dropped her hand to rub a small circle over her swollen belly. "But I expect some benefits from this. If you are_ both _shagging a Royal, I should at least get something out of it."

As much as Hermione wanted to question why her friendship wasn't enough, she knew the little quip would have to wait for later.

"Thank you, Ginn." Hermione rushed to her feet and hurried after Theo, who was already halfway through the house, making a beeline for the door.

She wasn't entirely sure how this was going to work—or _if_ it even would, but she did know one thing.

They had to at least _try._

* * *

**Author's Note:**

/gasp

oh no. the grand romantic gesture set up. so cliche. so rom-com. /throws confetti

also; I ended up putting the last two chapters together, so **one left** folks. It's written, and with the fabulous dreamsofdramione!

I can't wait to show you how this ends. /rubs hands

until next time. xx

find me on facebook under msmerlin eff & tumblr under ms-merlinblack

an aside: I started a discord server for nano, so if you want to come hang out, shoot the shit, write, or even cheerlead, let me know! **all are welcome**


	25. Chapter 25

The Bay Area was known for many things.

Delicious foods and drinks—sourdough and Philz coffee.

Beautiful sights—Muir Woods and Golden Gate Park.

Famous politicians—Harvey Milk and Gavin Newsom.

America's favorite actor, Tom Hanks.

And also…

Traffic.

Fucking _traffic_.

Hermione grew up in the heart of Los Angeles, and the traffic there paled in comparison to the gridlock nightmare that was the 101 during rush hour.

_Sure_, she could have taken the 280, but at 6:30pm on a Monday, it would hardly save her any fucking time.

Well that, and she needed to go into the city, as opposed to around it. So, the 101 it was.

Under normal circumstances, the congestion would have bothered her, but now? Now it felt like torture. Especially with Theo in the seat beside her drumming his fingers on the center console.

The typical forty minute drive ended up closer to an hour and twenty by the time they made it into the heart of the Financial District, just blocks from the British Consulate General.

"What the bloody fuck?" Theo was peering out the window with wide eyes, scanning the street for an open spot or parking garage. Had Hermione not demanded he keep his seat belt buckled—a huge non-negotiable for her—she was fairly certain he would have been glued to the window like a toddler in an ice cream shop. "Did everyone decide to come to the city tonight?"

She could point out that it _was _Monday.

She could point out that it was still _technically_ working hours.

She could point out that the Financial District was _always_ a fucking shit show, but that would have been insensitive, and while she _wanted_ to snark, she knew it wouldn't help the situation.

Instead, she tried to stay positive because it would do no one any good if they were both frantic messes, and she needed to stay calm enough to navigate through the maze that was San Francisco.

"We'll find something." Her grip on the wheel tightened, fingers digging into the raised stitching, wanting desperately to believe those words as they crept down the road.

The low murmur of Lady Gaga's_ You and I _felt either eerily ominous or wildly inappropriate as it emanated from her speakers. If she could have afforded to pull her eyes off the road for one second, she might have muted the radio, but she didn't want to risk missing an open space.

Each rotation of her tires made her stomach twist tighter and tighter into knots. If they wanted to catch Draco before he did anything rash—like leave the fucking country—they needed to act fast. They simply couldn't afford to circle the block countless times until something opened.

Which is why, when her navigation broke through the chorus to announce their arrival, Hermione did something she knew she would probably regret.

She pulled over.

The curb was bright red, leaving little indication as to if it were legal, or not, but well… time was of the essence. She had enough to cover a towing fee and ticket if needed—though she prayed they might be able to hurry this along enough to avoid any legal or financial ramifications.

She cut the engine once parked, and before she could hit the hazards to try and buy them at least a few extra minutes, Theo was already unbuckling his seat belt and opening the door. The same nervous energy that had plagued her from the moment they got on the highway seemed to drive her forward by pushing logic and reason aside.

She scrambled after her boyfriend, keys curled in her first as she internally cursed herself for not changing into sneakers while she struggled to keep up with his long gait.

"Theo!" She double-stepped, reaching out to grab his wrist as they near the glass doors. "Slow down."

His eyes were wild, as if he were more beast than man in this moment, and for half a second, she expected him to skitter from her touch, but instead he paused. His lengthy strides stalled just long enough for her to fall into step beside him. He gave her a single nod.

"Right… sorry. I just—"

"You don't have to explain." Hermione's fingers trailed down his wrist until their digits laced and she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "I just don't think we'll get very far if we rush in there like we're robbing the place."

Theo nodded, auburn locks falling across his forehead. The corners of his lips lifted in what had to be the most pathetic excuse for a smile she'd ever seen.

"You're right." She could hear the uncertainty in his voice—the unspoken insecurities that were so sharp they'd left gaping wounds miles wide. Yet, through it all—the pain, the hurt, the fear—here he was, running to stop Draco from leaving.

Despite every logical reason he could have to let Draco go, Theo clearly couldn't let him.

Because love… Well, love was _never_ logical.

Hermione took the lead, guiding them through the glass doors and into the lobby.

Gleaming tile sparkled under the harsh fluorescent lights, adding to the almost clinical ambience of the consulate. Polished. Crisp. Clean. It made a fucking dental office look warm and fuzzy in comparison.

Behind a large white marble desk, a security guard in a black cap greeted them as he rose from his desk. "Evening folks, how can I help you today?"

To his left, a small cluster of leather chairs were all taken by what Hermione could only assume, given the large cameras dangling from their necks, were reporters. To his right, she saw a glossy steel elevator bank.

"We… uh…" She looked around the lobby, reassessing how loud she was, when she felt eyes turn to them and she cleared her throat. Edging to the desk, she smiled up at the guard.

She could do this.

She worked with difficult people for a living.

She could absolutely do this.

"We're actually here for Draco."

"Prince Draco," Theo corrected.

"Yes… _Prince _Draco."

The guard nodded, eyes flicking between the pair. "And do you have a meeting with his Grace?"

Fuck.

Shit.

"Technically? No, but—"

The security guard shook his head, dark eyes rolling unapologetically. Hermione was certain he'd heard any and every excuse a thousand times over, especially today based on the busy lobby, so she couldn't really fault him.

"No appointment, no elevator pass."

"Yeah but if you just—"

"No appointment. No pass."

She could feel her own tension tick up, and the calm, cool, collected Hermione was beginning to fade, replaced by a more manic version of herself. She forced her smile wider, and curled her fingers at her sides. "I completely understand, Sir and normally I wouldn't dream of—"

"Draco!"

Hermione's voice vanished under the loud boom of Theo's baritone beside her. She jumped, startled by the sudden shout, then spun around, watching as Theo hurried across the lobby toward the blond.

Draco was on the phone, though she doubted he was actually paying attention to whomever he was talking to based on his look of surprise. He froze just a few feet from the elevator bank, brow furrowing as he watched Theo approach.

"Thanks!" Hermione squeaked to the security guard who looked equally as perplexed. She and Theo hurried across the lobby as quickly as her flats would allow.

Theo pulled the phone from Draco's hand and ended the call before doing something completely and utterly idiotic in a room already buzzing with reporters.

He kissed him.

Lights flashed and shutters clicked as Theo kissed Draco breathless.

With two hands on his cheeks, Theo went in for a full liplock like this was some shitty romantic comedy instead of real life.

Even though she'd seen them in far more intimate positions than this simple kiss, there was something about the way Draco went from wide eyed and stunned to pliant under the guidance of Theo's hands—something about the way his fingers curled into Theo's button down, holding his boyfriend as close as physically possible.

Despite herself, an impossibly girlish coo worked its way up her throat. Hermione pressed her fingers to her lips. The unsettling feeling that had plagued her since Draco walked out of Theo's townhome was pushed away, replaced by a newfound warmth.

Long ago she struggled to understand how Theo could be polyamorus. She simply didn't understand how he could find happiness with his partner being with someone other than himself.

But this?

_This_ she understood.

The utter love and devotion her two men shared was breathtaking.

Were they perfect? Hardly.

Did they have many things to work on? Abso-fucking-lutely.

But even with the numerous flaws and million reasons not to be together, it was so plain to see that they belonged with one another.

And, in turn, they also belonged with her.

_She _belonged with them.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry for being so rash," Theo whispered between peppered kisses, his thumbs stroking the sharp high of Draco's cheek. "I know this isn't easy… your family and the crown."

Draco nodded, seemingly helpless to Theo's affection, gray eyes hidden behind closed lids.

"I can't let you leave… not yet. Not when we need to figure this out." Theo's nose nudged against Draco's as his fingers trailed down his jaw.

Behind them, shutters snapped as fast as crickets chirped, insistent chatter that echoed off the lobby walls as the security team struggled to keep the reporters back from the Duke. It wasn't until a report shouted some rude sentiment about being gay that Draco seemed to snap from his kiss drunk stupor.

He slowly uncurled his fists from Theo's shirt and took a half step back, brow furrowing.

Draco's head cocked to the side just a smidge as he glanced between Theo and Hermione."I-I'm sorry. Did you say leave?"

"Yeah. We.. uh.. Well, Ginny saw you on Instagram—"

"I think it might have been Twitter, actually," Theo interjected.

"Whatever, Some social media platform said you were coming to arrange travel home." Hermione edged closer so her voice didn't carry over to the rabid reporters. "We came to stop you."

Draco looked between the two with an unreadable expression, one that Hermione could only assume was crafted over years of careful training. Apathetic, yet curious. Mild interest tinted with a posh aloofness that left her rather impressed with his ability to disengage from the chaos erupting behind them.

"Well, as appreciated as this little romantic gesture was..." Draco spoke slowly, fingers pushing the buttons on his sports coat open so he could tuck the tails of his coat under his forearms as he slipped his hands into his pants pockets. "I regret to inform you both that your rush has been all for naught seeing as I had no intention of leaving."

"You don't?" Theo's brow fell and his lips puckered as he pulled back.

Draco hummed with a slow nod, pressing his lips together in a feeble attempt at suppressing a smile.

"But you arrived with… with bags and your passport." Hermione shifted her weight between the balls of her feet.

"Yes. I was sending some personal effects back home, and extending my visa for another five months—pending a meeting with the Queen to request a leave of absence… which I was in the middle of arranging when you ended my call." Draco's eyes flickered over her shoulder to the media, and he lifted a hand in a small wave. His trillion-watt smile lit up the room for a split second before he looked back to her and Theo. "Can we just maybe have this—"

"A leave of absence?" Theo's voice cracked, cutting over the noisy lobby, eyes wide.

"Shh!" Draco pressed a single finger to his lips before lowering it in the universal symbol to quiet the fuck down—one Hermione was all to familar with. "Yes. I am going to request to be taken off the public tours. Indefinitely."

"Indefinitely?!"

Draco sucked in a deep breath. "Look, I'm not sure when this game of parroting everything I say started, but I'd prefer if we just stopped before one of those lovely journalists overhears and announces it before the crown does."

Hermione let loose a small slip of laughter as she watched Theo's cheek crimson. "I think he's just… shocked is all. After last week, I don't think either of us expected… _that."_

"I admit I handled things rather poorly. As Theodore presumably explained, I have a personal history of avoiding conflict by all means necessary." Draco's eyes dropped to the floor as a breathy laugh accompanied the slight upturn of his lips. "Which also happens to include running away from my problems."

The admission wasn't easy, Hermione could see that by the tension in his shoulders and the way he shuffled on his feet, but he was trying. He was putting forth some sort of effort to come clean, so to speak, and be upfront about what might be perceived as character flaws.

Theo's eyes softened, and Hermione could make out the way his fingers twitched with a suppressed need to reach for their boyfriend. "Draco, I didn't mean—"

"No, no. You were right, Theodore." Draco looked up, gray eyes tinted with a humility she had never seen there before. "I do run from my problems. I project my own insecurities in our relationship and while the excuse of my title might have worked when we were younger, it certainly loses its power in adulthood. I am stepping away from that work because… Well, because I want to be with you—_both_ of you." Draco gesticulated between the two of them, his wristwatch tinkling with each flick of his wrist. "That is, if you'll still have me."

That dastardly lump returned to her throat as she felt tears collect on lower lids. She didn't know when it happened, nor how, but somehow reaching thirty meant she seemed to burst into tears at any emotional moment.

Sad news article about polar bears dying due to melting ice caps? Tears.

Videos of dogs seeing their military service member parents returning home? Tears.

Beer commercial with a big ol' horse running after its trainer? _Fucking_ tears.

Now was clearly no exception to this rule, despite how fucking unnecessary the moisture was. Hermione let out a watery laugh and trembling fingers wiped away the hot rush of tears that leaked from the corner of her eyes. "Of course we will, you fucking idiot."

Draco laughed, that genuine, butterfly birthing, giddy inducing laugh, and before she could so much as stop him, he was pulling her into his orbit by her waist and his lips were against hers.

Distantly, she could hear the camera shutters flashing and the security guard's answering yell. Distantly, she knew they probably _shouldn't_ be doing this—especially in front of the media—but she found it really fucking hard to care when she felt an extra hand at her waist, followed by the hot press of a hard, familiar body behind her.

She leaned back against Theo, relishing the way his arms encased her waist as Draco's hand smoothed over her curves. She pulled back from the kiss to admire the beautiful gray she'd missed over the past week.

"I hate to interrupt this moment, your Grace…" A crisp, feminie voice cut through their reverie, and Hermione craned her head toward the source of the noise. A woman stood just out of their orbit, sharply dressed in a dark pantsuit. "But it appears your… acquaintances—"

"Partners, Ms. Chang," Draco corrected with a firm clearing of his throat. "As I explained upstairs, I am in a committed relationship with Mr. Nott _and _Miss Granger."

The woman gave him a tight smile, her painted fingers curling around the leather folio pressed against her chest. "My apologies. Your _partner's_ Audi is about to be towed."

"Shit!" Hermione's body lurched out of the small cage that her boyfriend's arms created and she began toward the door, flats slapping loudly against the tiled floor. While the security guard was mildly annoyed at the beginning of this little reunion tour, she was thankful for his presence now as he held the reporters at bay.

She knew they had so much to work through: hurt feelings, communicating, literal thousands of miles and the confusion of timezones.

She knew this was going to be an uphill battle, that much was certain, but as she ran to Theo's car—hoping to sweet talk her way out of a ticket, with her boyfriends hot on her heels—Hermione couldn't help but feel like this was going to be a challenge they were ready to face.

* * *

**Epilogue**

_Thirteen months later…_

It was hard to believe Hermione had been dating Theo and Draco for a little over a year.

Well, actually, what was hard to believe was that two incredibly handsome British men were still interested in her _and _they'd managed to make the whole long distance thing work.

There were days when she woke up and it still felt like a dream—especially after caving to his persistent requests two months ago and moving into Theo's townhome. Giving up that last bit of freedom had been a hard test. But Theo's place _was _technically closer to her work, and she spent so much time over there _anyway_.

So much had happened since she'd bought her place. She'd found not just her best friend, but also a new family. She'd landed an amazing job and, of course, found happiness with her two men. But moving in felt right. Eli was going to start Kinder soon, and the chosen school was right by PaidPal, so it just made sense.

She could help with Eli, spend more time with one of her boyfriends, _and_ save money—because of course Theo would absolutely not let her help pay his mortgage.

This particular morning, though, felt more like a dream than the rest.

It could have been the melatonin she'd taken.

Or perhaps the soft light from the cloud-covered sky filtering in through the curtain.

Or maybe, the fact that Draco had finally made good on his word and brought her to London.

This morning's dreamy quality, though, was likely due to the fact that she was waking up for the second week in a row nestled between her two boyfriends in what was probably the swankiest apartment she'd ever even seen—short of the whole washing machine in the kitchen, that was just weird.

Incorrect appliance placement aside, Hermione was absolutely smitten with being around both of her men again, and if the past three nights were any indication of how utterly fucking happy she was—well, it was safe to assume this month-long sabbatical was going to leave her with little opportunity for rest and relaxation.

Draco was curled behind her, acting as the big spoon to her little. His body molded to hers in a way that she was beginning to suspect was bespoke.

This trip wasn't just an excuse to see their blond boyfriend though—no, it was the beginning of a whole new chapter in their relationship.

When they finally returned home, Draco would be coming with them—permanently.

He'd successfully secured his work permit, and found a job at some tech startup. He was scheduled to start in a little over six weeks. In the meantime, he was using the little time before his continent relocation to show Hermione the wonders of the land of tea and crumpets.

And to meet Draco's parents.

Which, to her surprise, she wasn't exactly dreading.

When Draco had come out to them as not only bisexual, but polyamorus as well, they were shocked, which wasn't a surprise. But rather than hateful, bigoted rhetoric, they were… _supportive._ Sure, his dad was more than a little miffed that Draco was stepping away from '_his duty_,' but Draco's mother was ecstatic for his newfound happiness.

Narcissa made no qualms in regards to voicing her confusion about their unconventional lifestyle, but she was more than thrilled with the prospect of having a grandchild to dote upon. Though the Malfoy matriarch made certain to mention (on several occasions) that she would like at least two more—following a lavish wedding, _of course._

Unfortunately, Theo's father had not been as… understanding.

No, Mr. Nott had not only removed Theo from his will, but he had also had his barrister contact Ella-Mae to offer her a rather large sum of money to seek full-custody of Elijah. Thankfully E.M., with all her southern charm, put the old bastard in his place.

She made it known that she supported Theo _and _his choice of lifestyle and partners, and would not seek to take Eli away from such a supportive, loving parental network. She also added that if he wanted to continue any sort of relationship with his grandson, he needed to get his act together.

Theo took it in stride, though Hermione knew at the time it had hurt him more than he cared to admit.

Yet, despite the small stumbles, it appeared that her life was on track for the first time in a very, _very_ long time That was an understatement, and though she didn't want to jinx it, as she lay in the early morning light, listening to the melody of heavy breaths from both of her men, she couldn't help but wonder if this was what paradise felt like.

Her hand slid across Theo's skin, fingers brushing through the soft smattering of hair that coated his chest, and she slowly began to disentangle from the human knot she and her boyfriends had managed to twist themselves into the night before.

She pushed up on her elbow, careful not to jostle the bed too much as she began to maneuver over Theo's prone form so she could slip free from the bed. But just as she hoisted her leg over his waist, firm hands found her sides and locked her in place.

"Mmm… where do you think you're going?" The rumble of Theo's deep baritone tickled her chest. She lifted her eyes to see just the hint of that beautiful forest green peeking at her. He wasted no time rolling them over and pinning her beneath him, earning a small gasp by the sudden movement.

"I need to—_oh!_"

All thoughts of emptying her bladder slipped away when his lips moved to her neck, peppering her skin with small nibbles and kisses as he nuzzled against her skin. The mattress beneath them bounced, springs rocking her body against his, and though she'd tried to be gentle with her movements, it appeared Theo did not hold the same courtesy for letting their partner sleep in.

"Mmm… morning you two." Draco's sleepy greeting made Hermione turn her head to watch him rub the sleep from his eyes. "Didn't you get enough last night, Theodore?"

"Never." Theo's teeth scraped against her collarbone as he worked lower and lower. "You got to fill this beautiful cunt last night while I fucked you. Now it's my turn."

"Does that mean I get to bugger you?" Draco cocked a brow at Theo as his kisses traveled down her sternum.

"Mmm… tempting, but I'd much rather watch you fuck her throat."

"_Fuuuuck._" Hermione wanted nothing more than to let Theo's depraved wishes come true, and based on the sticky warmth that bloomed to life between her thighs, her body _clearly_ didn't mind, but it was her bladder, in the end, that won out. That, and the knowledge that they needed to be at Heathrow by two o'clock to pick up E.M and Eli—the latter was going to spend the next two weeks with them as they finished up their trip. "Theo stop. I really need to—_Ahh!"_

His lips were at her nipple, teeth teasing the hardened bud as his tongue lapped at the sensitive skin. She had to literally wrestle her runaway labio into submission as she wiggled out from beneath him, body already mourning the loss of his warmth as she slipped from the covers.

"Airport."

The one word reminder did little to dampen Theo's need as he fell back on the bed, sheets clearly tented. "We have four hours, Granger. Plenty of time."

"I need to shower—we probably _all_ do, and I was promised coffee and pastries. So no… I don't think we do." Hermione laughed as she began to walk backwards toward Draco's en suite.

Ever the negotiator, Draco was already on the move. She could practically see the gears in his mind churn as he pushed up onto his elbows, eyes dragging down her naked body. "What if we killed two birds with one stone and showered _while_ shagging?"

"Oh! I like this compromise." Theo's eyes widened in time with his wolvish smile. "We might have to change positions a bit, but I think this set up would really benefit you, Granger."

Her mind drifted toward the numerous times she'd showered with Theo, specifically to the way he'd used toys on her _while_ fucking her and she could practically feel her body demand she partake in this proposition.

Technically, they _would _be saving time—showering _and_ fucking.

And they _did _have four hours...

Reaching up, she pushed her wild curls back with a small laugh. She might regret it the closer they got to their scheduled departure, but she'd have to deal with the consequences later. "Okay, but… let me go pee first and like… freshen up a bit."

"You've got exactly ten minutes before we force our way in there," Theo warned, scooting across the bed towards Draco. "And just so you know, we _are _going to start without you."

Hermione bit her lip, watching as Theo pulled Draco to him for a savage kiss. Her feet slowed to tiny steps so she could linger and watch for just a second longer. "You guys know that you'll be the death of me, right?"

"God, I hope not." Theo nibbled on Draco's lower lip as he pulled away. "We'd be bloody miserable with you."

"Yeah." Draco craned his neck toward her, gray eyes already dark with need. "We intend to keep you alive and well taken care of for a long time."

"Probably forever," Theo added with a well-timed wag of his brows.

_Forever._

Once upon a time, that word would have scared her.

It would have made her turn around and run for the hills. But now, as that simple word rolled around in her mind, Hermione couldn't help but notice that, for the first time in her adult life, that word sounded… perfect.

Maybe forever with Draco and Theo wouldn't be so bad.

* * *

**author's note:**

la fin

I hope you guys enjoyed my little story! this plot bunny was literally the most organic insane process I had ever gotten into and I am so happy with the output. I dont think HAE had to end with babies, or marriage, or really anything beyond PEOPLE BEING HAPPY and I hope you all are content with how that was delivered.

huge, shouty, mega thanks to dreamsofdramione for being the worlds most amazing beta, and cheerleader.

many thanks to all of you for reading, commenting, recing and just being the amazing support community for this weird little romantic comedy of modern errors.

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next on my writing docket is to finish decree, and the starting of a new muggle!AU Sirmione /gasp. so hit the subscribe button to stay on top of my upcoming works.

until next time. xx


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